UNIVERSITY  OF  C   LFORN  A   SAN  DIEGO 


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DIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   SAN  Oil 


3  182201941  1214 


I 1    AM    NOT    EXACTLY    A    GUEST,     HE    STAMMERED." Page   4 


IN    THE    MIDST 
OF      ALARMS 


By        ROBERT         BARR 

Author  of  "Tekla,"  "A  Woman  Intervenes,"  "The  Mutable 
Many,"  "The  Face  and  the  Mask,"  "The  Strong  Arm,  "etc. 


Frontispiece     by     Harrison     Fisher 


GROSSET     &     DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS    :    NEW    YORK 


Copyright,  1894,  1900,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


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IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN  the  marble-floored  vestibule  of  the  Metropoli- 
tan Grand  Hotel  in  Buffalo,  Professor  Stillson 
Renmark  stood  and  looked  about  him  with  the 
anxious  manner  of  a  person  unused  to  the  gaudy 
splendour  of  the  modern  American  house  of  enter- 
tainment. The  professor  had  paused  halfway  be- 
tween the  door  and  the  marble  counter,  because  he 
began  to  fear  that  he  had  arrived  at  an  inopportune 
time,  when  something  unusual  was  going  on.  The 
hurry  and  bustle  bewildered  him. 

An  omnibus,  partly  filled  with  passengers,  was 
standing  at  the  door,  its  steps  backed  over  the  curb- 
stone, and  beside  it  was  a  broad,  flat  van,  on  which 
stalwart  porters  were  heaving  great  square,  iron- 
bound  trunks  belonging  to  commercial  travellers, 
and  the  more  fragile,  but  not  less  bulky,  Saratogas, 
doubtless  the  property  of  the  ladies  who  sat  pa- 
tiently in  the  omnibus.  Another  vehicle  which  had 
just  arrived  was  backing  up  to  the  curb,  and  the 
irate  driver  used  language  suitable  to  the  occasion  ; 

I 


2  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

for  the  two  restive  horses  were  not  behaving  exactly 
in  the  way  he  liked. 

A  man  with  a  stentorian,  but  monotonous  and 
mournful,  voice  was  filling  the  air  with  the  informa- 
tion that  a  train  was  about  to  depart  for  Albany, 
Saratoga,  Troy,  Boston,  New  York,  and  the  East. 
When  he  came  to  the  words  "  the  East,"  his  voice 
dropped  to  a  sad  minor  key,  as  if  the  man  despaired 
of  the  fate  of  those  who  took  their  departure  in 
that  direction.  Every  now  and  then  a  brazen  gong 
sounded  sharply ;  and  one  of  the  negroes  who  sat 
in  a  row  on  a  bench  along  the  marble-panelled  wall 
sprang  forward  to  the  counter,  took  somebody's 
handbag,  and  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the 
elevator  with  the  newly  arrived  guest  following  him. 
Groups  of  men  stood  here  and  there  conversing, 
heedless  of  the  rush  of  arrival  and  departure  around 
them. 

Before  the  broad  and  lofty  plate-glass  windows 
sat  a  row  of  men,  some  talking,  some  reading,  and 
some  gazing  outside,  but  all  with  their  feet  on  the 
brass  rail  which  had  been  apparently  put  there  for 
that  purpose.  Nearly  everybody  was  smoking  a 
cigar.  A  lady  of  dignified  mien  came  down  the  hall 
to  the  front  of  the  counter,  and  spoke  quietly  to  the 
clerk,  who  bent  his  well-groomed  head  deferentially 
on  one  side  as  he  listened  to  what  she  had  to  say. 
The  men  instantly  made  way  for  her.  She  passed 
along  among  them  as  composedly  as  if  she  were  in 
her  own  drawing-room,  inclining  her  head  slightly 
to  one  or  other  of  her  acquaintances,  which  saluta- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  3 

tion  was  gravely  acknowledged  by  the  raising  of  the 
hat  and  the  temporary  removal  of  the  cigar  from  the 
lips. 

All  this  was  very  strange  to  the  professor,  and  he 
felt  himself  in  a  new  world,  with  whose  customs  he 
was  not  familiar.  Nobody  paid  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  him  as  he  stood  there  among  it  all  with  his 
satchel  in  his  hand.  As  he  timidly  edged  up  to  the 
counter,  and  tried  to  accumulate  courage  enough  to 
address  the  clerk,  a  young  man  came  forward,  flung 
his  handbag  on  the  polished  top  of  the  counter, 
metaphorically  brushed  the  professor  aside,  pulled 
the  bulky  register  toward  him,  and  inscribed  his 
name  on  the  page  with  a  rapidity  equalled  only  by 
the  illegibility  of  the  result. 

"  Hello,  Sam  ! "  he  said  to  the  clerk.  "  How's 
things  ?  Get  my  telegram  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  the  clerk;  "but  I  can't  give  you 
27.  It's  been  taken  for  a  week.  I  reserved  85  for 
you,  and  had  to  hold  on  with  my  teeth  to  do  that." 

The  reply  of  the  young  man  was  merely  a  brief 
mention  of  the  place  of  torment. 

"  It  is  hot,"  said  the  clerk  blandly.  "  In  from 
Cleveland  ?  " 

"Yes.     Any  letters  for  me?" 

"  Couple  of   telegrams.     You'll  find  them  up  in 

85." 

"  Oh,  you  were  cocksure  I'd  take  that  room  ?  " 
"  I  was  cocksure  you'd  have  to.     It  is  either  that 
or  the  fifth  floor.     We're  full.     Couldn't  give  a  bet- 
ter room  to  the  President  if  he  came." 


4  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Oh,  well,  what's  good  enough  for  the  President 
I  can  put  up  with  for  a  couple  of  days." 

The  hand  of  the  clerk  descended  on  the  bell.  The 
negro  sprang  forward  and  took  the  "  grip." 

"Eighty-five,"  said  the  clerk;  and  the  drummer 
and  the  negro  disappeared. 

"  Is  there  any  place  where  I  could  leave  my  bag 
for  a  while  ?  "  the  professor  at  last  said  timidly  to 
the  clerk. 

"Your  bag?" 

The  professor  held  it  up  in  view. 

"  Oh,  your  grip.  Certainly.  Have  a  room,  sir?" 
And  the  clerk's  hand  hovered  over  the  bell. 

"  No.     At  least,  not  just  yet.     You  see,  I'm— 

"  All  right.  The  baggage  man  there  to  the  left 
will  check  it  for  you." 

"  Any  letters  for  Bond  ?  "  said  a  man,  pushing 
himself  in  front  of  the  professor.  The  clerk  pulled 
out  a  fat  bunch  of  letters  from  the  compartment 
marked  "  B,"  and  handed  the  whole  lot  to  the  in- 
quirer, who  went  rapidly  over  them,  selected  two 
that  appeared  to  be  addressed  to  him,  and  gave  the 
letters  a  shove  toward  the  clerk,  who  placed  them 
where  they  were  before. 

The  professor  paused  a  moment,  then,  realising 
that  the  clerk  had  forgotten  him,  sought  the  bag- 
gage man,  whom  he  found  in  a  room  filled  with 
trunks  and  valises.  The  room  communicated  with 
the  great  hall  by  means  of  a  square  opening  whose 
lower  ledge  was  breast  high.  The  professor  stood 
before  it,  and  handed  the  valise  to  the  man  behind 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  5 

this  opening,  who  rapidly  attached  one  brass  check 
to  the  handle  with  a  leather  thong,  and  flung  the 
other  piece  of  brass  to  the  professor.  The  latter  was 
not  sure  but  there  was  something  to  pay,  still  he 
quite  correctly  assumed  that  if  there  had  been  the 
somewhat  brusque  man  would  have  had  no  hesita- 
tion in  mentioning  the  fact ;  in  which  surmise  his 
natural  common  sense  proved  a  sure  guide  among 
strange  surroundings.  There  was  no  false  delicacy 
about  the  baggage  man. 

Although  the  professor  was  to  a  certain  extent 
bewildered  by  the  condition  of  things,  there  was 
still  in  his  nature  a  certain  dogged  persistence 
that  had  before  now  stood  him  in  good  stead,  and 
which  had  enabled  him  to  distance,  in  the  long  run, 
much  more  brilliant  men.  He  was  not  at  all  satis- 
fied  with  his  brief  interview  with  the  clerk.  He  re- 
solved to  approach  that  busy  individual  again,  if  he 
could  arrest  his  attention.  It  was  some  time  before 
he  caught  the  speaker's  eye,  as  it  were,  but  when  he 
did  so,  he  said : 

"  I  was  about  to  say  to  you  that  I  am  waiting  for 
a  friend  from  New  York  who  may  not  yet  have  ar- 
rived. His  name  is  Mr.  Richard  Yates  of  the " 

"  Oh,  Dick  Yates !  Certainly.  He's  here." 
Turning  to  the  negro,  he  said : "  Go  down  to  the 
billiard  room  and  see  if  Mr.  Yates  is  there.  If  he 
is  not,  look  for  him  at  the  bar." 

The  clerk  evidently  knew  Mr.  Dick  Yates.  Ap- 
parently not  noticing  the  look  of  amazement  that 
had  stolen  over  the  professor's  face,  the  clerk  said ; 


6  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  If  you  wait  in  the  reading-room,  I'll  send  Yates 
to  you  when  he  comes.  The  boy  will  find  him  if 
he's  in  the  house ;  but  he  may  be  up  town." 

The  professor,  disliking  to  trouble  the  obliging 
clerk  further,  did  not  ask  him  where  the  reading- 
room  was.  He  inquired,  instead,  of  a  hurrying  por- 
ter, and  received  the  curt  but  comprehensive  answer  : 

"  Dining-room  next  floor.  Reading,  smoking, 
and  writing-rooms  up  the  hall.  Billiard  room,  bar, 
and  lavatory  down-stairs." 

The  professor,  after  getting  into  the  barber  shop 
and  the  cigar  store,  finally  found  his  way  into  the 
reading-room.  Numerous  daily  papers  were  scat- 
tered around  on  the  table,  each  attached  to  a  long, 
clumsy  cleft-holder  made  of  wood  ;  while  other  jour- 
nals, similarly  encumbered,  hung  from  racks  against 
the  wall.  The  professor  sat  down  in  one  of  the  easy 
leather-covered  chairs,  but,  instead  of  taking  up  a 
paper,  drew  a  thin  book  from  his  pocket,  in  which 
he  was  soon  so  absorbed  that  he  became  entirely 
unconscious  of  his  strange  surroundings.  A  light 
touch  on  the  shoulder  brought  him  up  from  his  book 
into  the  world  again,  and  he  saw,  looking  down  on 
him,  the  stern  face  of  a  heavily  mustached  stranger. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  may  I  ask  if  you  are 
a  guest  of  this  house  ?  " 

A  shade  of  apprehension  crossed  the  professor's 
face  as  he  slipped  the  book  into  his  pocket.  He 
had  felt  vaguely  that  he  was  trespassing  when  he 
first  entered  the  hotel,  and  now  his  doubts  were 
confirmed. 


"  I — I   am  not  exactly   a   guest,"  he   stammered. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  not  exactly  a  guest  ? " 
continued  the  other,  regarding  the  professor  with 
a  cold  and  scrutinising  gaze.  "  A  man  is  either 
a  guest  or  he  is  not,  I  take  it.  Which  is  it  in  your 
case  ?  " 

"  I  presume,  technically  speaking,  I  am  not." 

"  Technically  speaking  !  More  evasions.  Let 
me  ask  you,  sir,  as  an  ostensibly  honest  man,  if  you 
imagine  that  all  this  luxury — this — this  elegance — 
is  maintained  for  nothing  ?  Do  you  think,  sir,  that 
it  is  provided  for  any  man  who  has  cheek  enough  to 
step  out  of  the  street  and  enjoy  it?  Is  it  kept  up, 
I  ask,  for  people  who  are,  technically  speaking,  not 
guests?" 

The  expression  of  conscious  guilt  deepened  on  the 
face  of  the  unfortunate  professor.  He  had  nothing 
to  say.  He  realised  that  his  conduct  was  too  fla- 
grant to  admit  of  defence,  so  he  attempted  none. 
Suddenly  the  countenance  of  his  questioner  lit  up 
with  a  smile,  and  he  smote  the  professor  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Well,  old  stick-in-the-mud,  you  haven't  changed 
a  particle  in  fifteen  years !  You  don't  mean  to  pre- 
tend you  don't  know  me  ?  " 

"  You  can't — you  can't  be  Richard  Yates?" 

"  I  not  only  can,  but  I  can't  be  anybody  else.  I 
know,  because  I  have  often  tried.  Well,  well,  well, 
well !  Stilly  we  used  to  call  you ;  don't  you  re- 
member? I'll  never  forget  that  time  we  sang  '  Oft 
in  the  stilly  night '  in  front  of  your  window  when 


8  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

you  were  studying  for  the  exams.  You  always 
were  a  quiet  fellow,  Stilly.  I've  been  waiting  for  you 
nearly  a  whole  day.  I  was  up  just  now  with  a  party 
of  friends  when  the  boy  brought  me  your  card — a 
little  philanthropic  gathering — sort  of  mutual  benefit 
arrangement,  you  know:  each  of  us  contributed 
what  we  could  spare  to  a  general  fund,  which  was 
given  to  some  deserving  person  in  the  crowd." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  professor  drily.  "  I  heard  the 
clerk  telling  the  boy  where  he  would  be  most  likely 
to  find  you." 

"Oh,  you  did,  eh?"  cried  Yates,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Yes,  Sam  generally  knows  where  to  send  for  me ; 
but  he  needn't  have  been  so  darned  public  about  it. 
Being  a  newspaper  man,  I  know  what  ought  to  be 
in  print  and  what  should  have  the  blue  pencil  run 
through  it.  Sam  is  very  discreet,  as  a  general 
thing;  but  then  he  knew,  of  course,  the  moment 
he  set  eyes  on  you,  that  you  were  an  old  pal  of 
mine." 

Again  Yates  laughed,  a  very  bright  and  cheery 
laugh  for  so  evidently  wicked  a  man. 

"  Come  along,"  he  said,  taking  the  professor  by 
the  arm.  "  We  must  get  you  located." 

They  passed  out  into  the  hall,  and  drew  up  at  the 
clerk's  counter. 

"  I  say,  Sam,"  cried  Yates,  "  can't  you  do  some- 
thing better  for  us  than  the  fifth  floor?  I  didn't 
come  to  Buffalo  to  engage  in  ballooning.  No  sky 
parlours  for  me,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  I'm  sorry,  Dick,"  said  the  clerk ;  "  but  I  expect 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  9 

the  fifth  floor  will  be  gone  when  the  Chicago  express 
gets  in." 

"  Well,  what  can  you  do  for  us,  anyhow?" 

"I  can  let  you  have  518.  That's  the  next  room 
to  yours.  Really,  they're  the  most  comfortable 
rooms  in  the  house  this  weather.  Fine  lookout 
over  the  lake.  I  wouldn't  mind  having  a  sight  of 
the  lake  myself,  if  I  could  leave  the  desk." 

"All  right.  But  I  didn't  come  to  look  at  the 
lake,  nor  yet  at  the  railroad  tracks  this  side,  nor  at 
Buffalo  Creek  either,  beautiful  and  romantic  as  it  is, 
nor  to  listen  to  the  clanging  of  the  ten  thousand 
locomotives  that  pass  within  hearing  distance  for 
the  delight  of  your  guests.  The  fact  is  that,  always 
excepting  Chicago,  Buffalo  is  more  like — for  the 
professor's  sake  I'll  say  Hades,  than  any  other  place 
in  America." 

"  Oh,  Buffalo's  all  right,"  said  the  clerk,  with  that 
feeling  of  local  loyalty  which  all  Americans  possess. 
"  Say,  are  you  here  on  this  Fenian  snap  ?  " 

"  What  Fenian  snap  ?  "  asked  the  newspaper  man. 

"Oh!  don't  you  know  about  it?  I  thought,  the 
moment  I  saw  you,  that  you  were  here  for  this 
affair.  Well,  don't  say  I  told  you,  but  I  can  put 
you  on  to  one  of  the  big  guns  if  you  want  the  par- 
ticulars. They  say  they're  going  to  take  Canada. 
I  told  'em  that  I  wouldn't  have  Canada  as  a  gift,  let 
alone  fight  for  it.  I've  been  there." 

Yates'  newspaper  instinct  thrilled  him  as  he 
thought  of  the  possible  sensation.  Then  the  light 
slowly  died  out  of  his  eyes  when  he  looked  at  the 


10  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

professor,  who  had  flushed  somewhat  and  com- 
pressed his  lips  as  he  listened  to  the  slighting 
remarks  on  his  country. 

"  Well,  Sam,"  said  the  newspaper  man  at  last, 
"  it  isn't  more  than  once  in  a  lifetime  that  you'll 
find  me  give  the  go-by  to  a  piece  of  news,  but  the 
fact  is  I'm  on  my  vacation  just  now.  About  the 
first  I've  had  for  fifteen  years ;  so,  you  see,  I  must 
take  care  of  it.  No,  let  the  Argus  get  scooped,  if  it 
wants  to.  They'll  value  my  services  all  the  more 
when  I  get  back.  No.  518,  I  think  you  said?" 

The  clerk  handed  over  the  key,  and  the  professor 
gave  the  boy  the  check  for  his  valise  at  Yates* 
suggestion. 

"  Now,  get  a  move  on  you,"  said  Yates  to  the 
elevator  boy.  "  We're  going  right  through  with 
you." 

And  so  the  two  friends  were  shot  up  together  to 
the  fifth  floor. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  sky  parlour,  as  Yates  had  termed  it,  certainly 
commanded  a  very  extensive  view.  Immediately 
underneath  was  a  wilderness  of  roofs.  Farther  along 
were  the  railway  tracks  that  Yates  objected  to;  and 
a  line  of  masts  and  propeller  funnels  marked  the 
windings  of  Buffalo  Creek,  along  whose  banks  arose 
numerous  huge  elevators,  each  marked  by  some 
tremendous  letter  of  the  alphabet,  done  in  white 
paint  against  the  sombre  brown  of  the  big  building. 
Still  farther  to  the  west  was  a  more  grateful  and 
comforting  sight  for  a  hot  day.  The  blue  lake,  dot- 
ted with  white  sails  and  an  occasional  trail  of  smoke, 
lay  shimmering  under  the  broiling  sun.  Over  the 
water,  through  the  distant  summer  haze,  there  could 
be  seen  the  dim  line  of  the  Canadian  shore. 

"  Sit  you  down,"  cried  Yates,  putting  both  hands 
on  the  other's  shoulders,  and  pushing  his  friend  into 
a  chair  near  the  window.  Then,  placing  his  finger 
on  the  electric  button,  he  added  :  "  What  will  you 
drink?" 

"  I'll  take  a  glass  of  water,  if  it  can  be  had  with- 
out trouble,"  said  Renmark. 

Yates'  hand  dropped  from  the  electric  button  hope- 


12  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

lessly  to  his  side,  and  he  looked  reproachfully  at  the 
professor. 

"  Great  Heavens !  "  he  cried,  "  have  something 
mild.  Don't  go  rashly  in  for  Buffalo  water  before  you 
realize  what  it  is  made  of.  Work  up  to  it  gradually. 
Try  a  sherry  cobbler  or  a  milk  shake  as  a  starter." 

"  Thank  you,  no.  A  glass  of  water  will  do  very 
well  for  me.  Order  what  you  like  for  yourself." 

"  Thanks,  I  can  be  depended  on  for  doing  that." 
He  pushed  the  button,  and,  when  the  boy  appeared, 
said  :  "  Bring  up  an  iced  cobbler,  and  charge  it  to 
Professor  Renmark,  No.  518.  Bring  also  a  pitcher 
of  ice  water  for  Yates,  No.  520.  There,"  he  con- 
tinued gleefully,  "  I'm  going  to  have  all  the  drinks, 
except  the  ice  water,  charged  to  you.  I'll  pay  the 
bill,  but  I'll  keep  the  account  to  hold  over  your 
head  in  the  future.  Professor  Stillson  Renmark, 
debtor  to  Metropolitan  Grand — one  sherry  cobbler, 
one  gin  sling,  one  whisky  cocktail,  and  so  on.  Now, 
then,  Stilly,  let's  talk  business.  You're  not  married, 
I  take  it,  or  you  wouldn't  have  responded  to  my 
invitation  so  promptly."  The  professor  shook  his 
head.  "  Neither  am  I.  You  never  had  the  courage 
to  propose  to  a  girl;  and  I  never  had  the  time." 

"  Lack  of  self-conceit  was  not  your  failing  in  the 
old  days,  Richard,"  said  Renmark  quietly. 

Yates  laughed.  "  Well,  it  didn't  hold  me  back 
any,  to  my  knowledge.  Now  I'll  tell  you  how  I've 
got  along  since  we  attended  old  Scragmore's  acad- 
emy together,  fifteen  years  ago.  How  time  does 
fly!  When  I  left,  I  tried  teaching  for  one  short 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  13 

month.  I  had  some  theories  on  the  education  of 
our  youth  which  did  not  seem  to  chime  in  with  the 
prejudices  the  school  trustees  had  already  formed 
on  the  subject." 

The  professor  was  at  once  all  attention.  Touch  a 
man  on  his  business,  and  he  generally  responds  by 
being  interested. 

"  And  what  were  your  theories?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  I  thought  a  teacher  should  look  after  the 
physical  as  well  as  the  mental  welfare  of  his  pupils. 
It  did  not  seem  to  me  that  his  duty  to  those  under 
his  charge  ended  with  mere  book  learning." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  the  professor 
cordially. 

"Thanks.  Well,  the  trustees  didn't.  I  joined 
the  boys  at  their  games,  hoping  my  example  would 
have  an  influence  on  their  conduct  on  the  play- 
ground as  well  as  in  the  schoolroom.  We  got  up  a 
rattling  good  cricket  club.  You  may  not  remember 
that  I  stood  rather  better  at  cricket  at  the  academy 
than  I  did  in  mathematics  or  grammar.  By  handi- 
capping me  with  several  poor  players,  and  having 
the  best  batsmen  among  the  boys  in  opposition,  we 
made  a  pretty  evenly  matched  team  at  school  sec- 
tion No.  12.  One  day,  at  noon,  we  began  a  game. 
The  grounds  were  in  excellent  condition,  and  the 
opposition  boys  were  at  their  best.  My  side  was 
getting  the  worst  of  it.  I  was  very  much  interested  ; 
and,  when  one  o'clock  came,  I  thought  it  a  pity  to 
call  school  and  spoil  so  good  and  interesting  a  con- 
test. The  boys  were  unanimously  of  the  same 


I4  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

opinion.  The  girls  were  happy,  picnicking  under 
the  trees.  So  we  played  cricket  all  the  afternoon." 

"  I  think  that  was  carrying  your  theory  a  little 
too  far,"  said  the  professor  dubiously. 

"Just  what  the  trustees  thought  when  they  came 
to  hear  of  it.  So  they  dismissed  me ;  and  I  think 
my  leaving  was  the  only  case  on  record  where  the 
pupils  genuinely  mourned  a  teacher's  departure.  I 
shook  the  dust  of  Canada  from  my  feet,  and  have 
never  regretted  it.  I  tramped  to  Buffalo,  continu- 
ing to  shake  the  dust  off  at  every  step.  (Hello ! 
here's  your  drinks  at  last,  Stilly.  I  had  forgotten 
about  them — an  unusual  thing  with  me.  That's  all 
right,  boy;  charge  it  to  room  518.  Ah!  that  hits 
the  spot  on  a  hot  day.)  Well,  where  was  I  ?  Oh, 
yes,  at  Buffalo.  I  got  a  place  on  a  paper  here,  at 
just  enough  to  keep  life  in  me;  but  I  liked  the  work. 
Then  I  drifted  to  Rochester  at  a  bigger  salary, 
afterward  to  Albany  at  a  still  bigger  salary,  and  of 
course  Albany  is  only  a  few  hours  from  New  York, 
and  that  is  where  all  newspaper  men  ultimately  land, 
if  they  are  worth  their  salt.  I  saw  a  small  section 
of  the  war  as  special  correspondent,  got  hurt,  and 
rounded  up  in  the  hospital.  Since  then,  although 
only  a  reporter,  I  am  about  the  top  of  the  tree  in 
that  line,  and  make  enough  money  to  pay  my  poker 
debts  and  purchase  iced  drinks  to  soothe  the  asperi- 
ties of  the  game.  When  there  is  anything  big  going 
on  anywhere  in  the  country,  I  am  there,  with  other 
fellows,  to  do  the  drudgery ;  I  writing  the  picturesque 
descriptions  and  interviewing  the  big  men.  My  stuff 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  15 

goes  red-hot  over  the  telegraph  wire,  and  the  humble 
postage  stamp  knows  my  envelopes  no  more.  I  am 
acquainted  with  every  hotel  clerk  that  amounts  to 
anything  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco.  If  I 
could  save  money,  I  should  be  rich,  for  I  make 
plenty  ;  but  the  hole  at  the  top  of  my  trousers  pocket 
has  lost  me  a  lot  of  cash,  and  I  don't  seem  to  be  able 
to  get  it  mended.  Now,  you've  listened  with  your 
customary  patience  in  order  to  give  my  self-esteem, 
as  you  called  it,  full  sway.  I  am  grateful.  I  will 
reciprocate.  How  about  yourself  ?" 

The  professor  spoke  slowly.  "  I  have  had  no  such 
adventurous  career,"  he  began.  "  I  have  not  shaken 
Canadian  dust  from  my  feet,  and  have  not  made  any 
great  success.  I  have  simply  plodded ;  and  am  in 
no  danger  of  becoming  rich,  although  I  suppose  I 
spend  as  little  as  any  man.  After  you  were  expel — 
after  you  left  the  aca " 

"  Don't  mutilate  the  good  old  English  language, 
Stilly.  You  were  right  in  the  first  place.  I  am  not 
thin-skinned.  You  were  saying  after  I  was  expelled. 
Go  on." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  it  might  be  a  sore  subject. 
You  remember,  you  were  very  indignant  at  the  time, 
and •• 

"  Of  course  I  was — and  am  still,  for  that  matter. 
It  was  an  outrage  !  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  proved  that  you  helped  to  put 
the  pony  in  the  principal's  room." 

"Oh,  certainly.  That.  Of  course.  But  what  I 
detested  was  the  way  the  principal  worked  the  thing. 


16  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

He  allowed  that  villain  Spink  to  turn  evidence 
against  us,  and  Spink  stated  I  originated  the  affair, 
whereas  I  could  claim  no  such  honour.  It  was  Spink's 
own  project,  which  I  fell  in  with,  as  I  did  with  every 
disreputable  thing  proposed.  Of  course  the  prin- 
cipal believed  at  once  that  I  was  the  chief  criminal. 
Do  you  happen  to  know  if  Spink  has  been  hanged 
yet?" 

"  I  believe  he  is  a  very  reputable  business  man  in 
Montreal,  and  much  respected." 

"  I  might  have  suspected  that.  Well,  you  keep 
your  eye  on  the  respected  Spink.  If  he  doesn't  fail 
some  day,  and  make  a  lot  of  money,  I'm  a  Dutch- 
man. But  go  on.  This  is  digression.  By  the  way, 
just  push  that  electric  button.  You're  nearest,  and 
it  is  too  hot  to  move.  Thanks.  After  I  was  ex- 
pelled  

"  After  your  departure  I  took  a  diploma,  and  for  a 
year  or  two  taught  a  class  in  the  academy.  Then, 
as  I  studied  during  my  spare  time,  I  got  a  chance  as 
master  of  a  grammar  school  near  Toronto,  chiefly, 
as  I  think,  through  the  recommendation  of  Prin- 
cipal Scragmore.  I  had  my  degree  by  this  time. 
Then- 
There  was  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door. 
"Come  in!"  shouted  Yates.  "Oh,  it's  you. 
Just  bring  up  another  cooling  cobbler,  will  you? 
and  charge  it,  as  before,  to  Professor  Renmark,  room 
518.  Yes;  and  then— 

"  And  then  there  came  the  opening  in  University 
College,  Toronto.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  17 

appointed.  There  I  am  still,  and  there  I  suppose  I 
shall  stay.  I  know  very  few  people,  and  am  better 
acquainted  with  books  than  with  men.  Those  whom 
I  have  the  privilege  of  knowing  are  mostly  studious 
persons,  who  have  made,  or  will  make,  their  mark  in 
the  world  of  learning.  I  have  not  had  your  advan- 
tage of  meeting  statesmen  who  guide  the  destinies 
of  a  great  empire." 

"  No ;  you  always  were  lucky,  Stilly.  My  expe- 
rience is  that  the  chaps  who  do  the  guiding  are  more 
anxious  about  their  own  pockets,  or  their  own  polit- 
ical advancement,  than  they  are  of  the  destinies. 
Still,  the  empire  seems  to  take  its  course  westward 
just  the  same.  So  old  Scragmore's  been  your  friend, 
has  he?" 

"  He  has,  indeed." 

"  Well,  he  insulted  me  only  the  other  day." 

"You  astonish  me.  I  cannot  imagine  so  gentle- 
manly and  scholarly  a  man  as  Principal  Scragmore 
insulting  anybody." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  him  as  I  do.  It  was  like 
this  :  I  wanted  to  find  out  where  you  were,  for  rea- 
sons that  I  shall  state  hereafter.  I  cudgelled  my 
brains,  and  then  thought  of  old  Scrag.  I  wrote  him, 
and  inclosed  a  stamped  and  addressed  envelope, 
as  all  unsought  contributors  should  do.  He  an- 
swered   But  I  have  his  reply  somewhere.  You 

shall  read  it  for  yourself." 

Yates  pulled  from  his  inside  pocket  a  bundle  of 
letters,  which  he  hurriedly  fingered  over,  commenting 
in  a  low  voice  as  he  did  so  :  "I  thought  I  answered 

2 


i8  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

that.  Still,  no  matter.  Jingo  !  haven't  I  paid  that 
bill  yet?  This  pass  is  run  out.  Must  get  another." 
Then  he  smiled  and  sighed  as  he  looked  at  a  letter 
in  dainty  handwriting  ;  but  apparently  he  could  not 
find  the  document  he  sought. 

"  Oh,  well,  it  doesn't  matter.  I  have  it  somewhere. 
He  returned  me  the  prepaid  envelope,  and  reminded 
me  that  United  States  stamps  were  of  no  use  in 
Canada,  which  of  course  I  should  have  remembered. 
But  he  didn't  pay  the  postage  on  his  own  letter,  so 
that  I  had  to  fork  out  double.  Still,  I  don't  mind 
that,  only  as  an  indication  of  his  meanness.  He 
went  on  to  say  that,  of  all  the  members  of  our  class, 
you — you  ! — were  the  only  one  who  had  reflected 
credit  on  it.  That  was  the  insult.  The  idea  of  his 
making  such  a  statement,  when  I  had  told  him  I  was 
on  the  New  York  Argus !  Credit  to  the  class,  in- 
deed !  I  wonder  if  he  ever  heard  of  Brown  after  he 
was  expelled.  You  know,  of  course.  No  ?  Well, 
Brown,  by  his  own  exertions,  became  president  of 
the  Alum  Bank  in  New  York,  wrecked  it,  and  got 
off  to  Canada  with  a  clear  half-million.  Yes,  sir.  I 
saw  him  in  Quebec  not  six  months  ago.  Keeps  the 
finest  span  and  carriage  in  the  city,  and  lives  in  a 
palace.  Could  buy  out  old  Scragmore  a  thousand 
times,  and  never  feel  it.  Most  liberal  contributor  to 
the  cause  of  education  that  there  is  in  Canada.  He 
says  education  made  him,  and  he's  not  a  man  to  go 
back  on  education.  And  yet  Scragmore  has  the 
cheek  to  say  that  you  were  the  only  man  in  the  class 
who  reflects  credit  on  it !  " 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  19 

The  professor  smiled  quietly  as  the  excited  jour- 
nalist took  a  cooling  sip  of  the  cobbler. 

"You  see,  Yates,  people's  opinions  differ.  A  man 
like  Brown  may  not  be  Principal  Scragmore's  ideal. 
The  principal  may  be  local  in  his  estimate  of  a  suc- 
cessful man,  or  of  one  who  reflects  credit  on  his 
teaching." 

"  Local  ?  You  bet  he's  local.  Too  darned  local 
for  me.  It  would  do  that  man  good  to  live  in  New 
York  for  a  year.  But  I'm  going  to  get  even  with 
him.  I'm  going  to  write  him  up.  I'll  give  him  a 
column  and  a  half  ;  see  if  I  don't.  I'll  get  his  pho- 
tograph, and  publish  a  newspaper  portrait  of  him. 
If  that  doesn't  make  him  quake,  he's  a  cast-iron  man. 
Say,  you  haven't  a  photograph  of  old  Scrag  that  you 
can  lend  me,  have  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  ;  but  I  won't  lend  it  for  such  a  purpose. 
However,  never  mind  the  principal.  Tell  me  your 
plans.  I  am  at  your  disposal  for  a  couple  of  weeks, 
or  longer  if  necessary." 

"  Good  boy  !  Well,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is.  I  want 
rest  and  quiet,  and  the  woods,  for  a  week  or  two. 
This  is  how  it  happened  :  I  have  been  steadily  at  the 
grindstone,  except  for  a  while  in  the  hospital ;  and 
that,  you  will  admit,  is  not  much  of  a  vacation.  The 
work  interests  me,  and  I  am  always  in  the  thick  of 
it.  Now,  it's  like  this  in  the  newspaper  business: 
Your  chief  is  never  the  person  to  suggest  that  you 
take  a  vacation.  He  is  usually  short  of  men  and 
long  on  things  to  do,  so  if  you  don't  worry  him  into 
letting  you  off,  he  won't  lose  any  sleep  over  it.  He's 


20  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

content  to  let  well  enough  alone  every  time.  Then 
there  is  always  somebody  who  wants  to  get  away  on 
pressing  business, — grandmother's  funeral,  and  that 
sort  of  thing, — so  if  a  fellow  is  content  to  work  right 
along,  his  chief  is  quite  content  to  let  him.  That's 
the  way  affairs  have  gone  for  years  with  me.  The 
other  week  I  went  over  to  Washington  to  interview 
a  senator  on  the  political  prospects.  I  tell  you  what 
it  is,  Stilly,  without  bragging,  there  are  some  big 
men  in  the  States  whom  no  one  but  me  can  inter- 
view. And  yet  old  Scrag  says  I'm  no  credit  to  his 
class  !  Why,  last  year  my  political  predictions  were 
telegraphed  all  over  this  country,  and  have  since 
appeared  in  the  European  press.  No  credit !  By 
Jove,  I  would  like  to  have  old  Scrag  in  a  twenty- 
four-foot  ring,  with  thin  gloves  on,  for  about  ten 
minutes !  " 

"  I  doubt  if  he  would  shine  under  those  circum- 
stances. But  never  mind  him.  He  spoke,  for  once, 
without  due  reflection,  and  with  perhaps  an  exag- 
gerated remembrance  of  your  school-day  offenses. 
What  happened  when  you  went  to  Washington?" 

"  A  strange  thing  happened.  When  I  was  admit- 
ted to  the  senator's  library,  I  saw  another  fellow, 
whom  I  thought  I  knew,  sitting  there.  I  said  to 
the  senator :  '  I  will  come  when  you  are  alone.'  The 
senator  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  said :  '  I  am 
alone.'  I  didn't  say  anything,  but  went  on  with  my 
interview ;  and  the  other  fellow  took  notes  all  the 
time.  I  didn't  like  this,  but  said  nothing,  for  the 
senator  is  not  a  man  to  offend,  and  it  is  by  not 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  21 

offending  these  fellows  that  I  can  get  the  informa- 
tion I  do.  Well,  the  other  fellow  came  out  with 
me,  and  as  I  looked  at  him  I  saw  that  he  was  my- 
self. This  did  not  strike  me  as  strange  at  the  time, 
but  I  argued  with  him  all  the  way  to  New  York,  and 
tried  to  show  him  that  he  wasn't  treating  me  fairly. 
I  wrote  up  the  interview,  with  the  other  fellow  in- 
terfering all  the  while,  so  I  compromised,  and  half 
the  time  put  in  what  he  suggested,  and  half  the 
time  what  I  wanted  in  myself.  When  the  political 
editor  went  over  the  stuff  he  looked  alarmed.  I  told 
him  frankly  just  how  I  had  been  interfered  with,  and 
he  looked  none  the  less  alarmed  when  I  had  finished. 
He  sent  at  once  for  a  doctor.  The  doctor  meta- 
phorically took  me  to  pieces,  and  then  said  to  my 
chief :  '  This  man  is  simply  worked  to  death.  He 
must  have  a  vacation,  and  a  real  one,  with  absolutely 
nothing  to  think  of,  or  he  is  going  to  collapse,  and 
that  with  a  suddenness  which  will  surprise  everybody.' 
The  chief,  to  my  astonishment,  consented  without  a 
murmur,  and  even  upbraided  me  for  not  going  away 
sooner.  Then  the  doctor  said  to  me :  '  You  get 
some  companion — some  man  with  no  brains,  if  pos- 
sible, who  will  not  discuss  politics,  who  has  no  opin- 
ion on  anything  that  any  sane  man  would  care  to 
talk  about,  and  who  couldn't  say  a  bright  thing  if 
he  tried  for  a  year.  Get  such  a  man  to  go  off  to  the 
woods  somewhere.  Up  in  Maine  or  in  Canada.  As 
far  away  from  post  offices  and  telegraph  offices  as 
possible.  And,  by  the  way,  don't  leave  your  address 
at  the  Argus  office.'  Thus  it  happened,  Stilly,  when 


22  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

he  described  this  man  so  graphically,  I  at  once 
thought  of  you." 

"  I  am  deeply  gratified,  I  am  sure,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, with  the  ghost  of  a  smile,  "  to  be  so  promptly 
remembered  in  such  a  connection,  and  if  I  can  be  of 
service  to  you,  I  shall  be  very  glad.  I  take  it,  then, 
that  you  have  no  intention  of  stopping  in  Buffalo  ?  '' 

"  You  bet  I  haven't.  I'm  in  for  the  forest  prime- 
val, the  murmuring  pines  and  the  hemlock,  bearded 
with  moss  and  green  in  the  something  or  other — I 
forget  the  rest.  I  want  to  quit  lying  on  paper,  and 
lie  on  my  back  instead,  on  the  sward  or  in  the  ham- 
mock. I'm  going  to  avoid  all  boarding  houses  or 
delightful  summer  resorts,  and  go  in  for  the  quiet  of 
the  forest." 

"  There  ought  to  be  some  nice  places  along  the 
lake  shore." 

"  No,  sir.  No  lake  shore  for  me.  It  would  re- 
mind me  of  the  Lake  Shore  Railroad  when  it  was 
calm,  and  of  Long  Branch  when  it  was  rough.  No, 
sir.  The  woods,  the  woods,  and  the  woods.  I  have 
hired  a  tent  and  a  lot  of  cooking  things.  I'm  going 
to  take  that  tent  over  to  Canada  to-morrow ;  and 
then  I  propose  we  engage  a  man  with  a  team  to  cart 
it  somewhere  into  the  woods,  fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
away.  We  shall  have  to  be  near  a  farmhouse,  so 
that  we  can  get  fresh  butter,  milk,  and  eggs.  This, 
of  course,  is  a  disadvantage ;  but  I  shall  try  to  get 
near  some  one  who  has  never  even  heard  of  New 
York." 

"  You  may  find  that  somewhat  difficult." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  23 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  have  great  hopes  of  the 
lack  of  intelligence  in  the  Canadians." 

'  Often  the  narrowest,"  said  the  professor  slowly, 
"  are  those  who  think  themselves  the  most  cosmo- 
politan." 

"  Right  you  are,"  cried  Yates,  skimming  lightly 
over  the  remark,  and  seeing  nothing  applicable  to 
his  case  in  it.  "  Well,  I've  laid  in  about  half  a  ton, 
more  or  less,  of  tobacco,  and  have  bought  an  empty 

jug." 

"  An  empty  one  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Among  the  few  things  worth  having  that 
the  Canadians  possess,  is  good  whisky.  Besides,  the 
empty  jar  will  save  trouble  at  the  custom-house.  I 
don't  suppose  Canadian  rye  is  as  good  as  the  Ken- 
tucky article,  but  you  and  I  will  have  to  scrub  along 
on  it  for  a  while.  And,  talking  of  whisky,  just  press 
the  button  once  again." 

The  professor  did  so,  saying : 

"  The  doctor  made  no  remark,  I  suppose,  about 
drinking  less  or  smoking  less,  did  he  ?  " 

"  In  my  case?  Well,  come  to  think  of  it,  there 
was  some  conversation  in  that  direction.  Don't 
remember  at  the  moment  just  what  it  amounted  to ; 
but  all  physicians  have  their  little  fads,  you 
know.  It  doesn't  do  to  humour  them  too  much. 
Ah,  boy,  there  you  are  again.  Well  the  professor 
wants  another  drink.  Make  it  a  gin  fizz  this  time, 
and  put  plenty  of  ice  in  it ;  but  don't  neglect  the 
gin  on  that  account.  Certainly  ;  charge  it  to  room 
518." 


CHAPTER  III. 

"WHAT'S  all  this  tackle?"  asked  the  burly  and 
somewhat  red-faced  customs  officer  at  Fort  Erie. 

"  This,"  said  Yates,  "  is  a  tent,  with  the  poles  and 
pegs  appertaining  thereto.  These  are  a  number  of 
packages  of  tobacco,  on  which  I  shall  doubtless 
have  to  pay  something  into  the  exchequer  of  her 
Majesty.  This  is  a  jug  used  for  the  holding  of 
liquids.  I  beg  to  call  your  attention  to  the  fact 
that  it  is  at  present  empty,  which  unfortunately 
prevents  me  making  a  libation  to  the  rites  of  good- 
fellowship.  What  my  friend  has  in  that  valise  I 
don't  know,  but  I  suspect  a  gambling  outfit,  and 
would  advise  you  to  search  him." 

"  My  valise  contains  books  principally,  with  some 
articles  of  wearing  apparel,"  said  the  professor, 
opening  his  grip. 

The  customs  officer  looked  with  suspicion  on  the 
whole  outfit,  and  evidently  did  not  like  the  tone  of 
the  American.  He  seemed  to  be  treating  the  cus- 
toms department  in  a  light  and  airy  manner,  and  the 
officer  was  too  much  impressed  by  the  dignity  of  his 
position  not  to  resent  flippancy.  Besides,  there 
were  rumours  of  Fenian  invasion  in  the  air,  and  the 
24 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  25 

officer  resolved  that  no  Fenian  should  get  into  the 
country  without  paying  duty. 

"  Where  are  you  going  with  this  tent  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  you  can 
tell  us.  I  don't  know  the  country  about  here.  Say, 
Stilly,  I'm  off  up-town  to  attend  to  the  emptiness  in 
this  stone  utensil.  I've  been  empty  too  often  my- 
self not  to  sympathise  with  its  condition.  You 
wrestle  this  matter  out  about  the  tent.  You  know 
the  ways  of  the  country,  whereas  I  don't." 

It  was  perhaps  as  well  that  Yates  left  negotiations 
in  the  hands  of  his  friend.  He  was  quick  enough  to 
see  that  he  made  no  headway  with  the  officer,  but 
rather  the  opposite.  He  slung  the  jar  ostentatiously 
over  his  shoulder,  to  the  evident  discomfort  of  the 
professor,  and  marched  up  the  hill  to  the  nearest 
tavern,  whistling  one  of  the  lately  popular  war 
tunes. 

"  Now,"  he  said  to  the  barkeeper,  placing  the  jar 
tenderly  on  the  bar,  "  fill  that  up  to  the  nozzle  with 
the  best  rye  you  have.  Fill  it  with  the  old  familiar 
juice,  as  the  late  poet  Omar  saith." 

The  bartender  did  as  he  was  requested. 

"  Can  you  disguise  a  little  of  that  fluid  in  any 
way,  so  that  it  may  be  taken  internally  without  a 
man  suspecting  what  he  is  swallowing  ?  " 

The  barkeeper  smiled.  "  How  would  a  cocktail 
fill  the  vacancy?" 

"  I  can  suggest  nothing  better,"  replied  Yates. 
"  If  you  are  sure  you  know  how  to  make  it." 

The  man  did  not  resent  this  imputation  of  igno- 


26  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ranee.  He  merely  said,  with  the  air  of  one  who  gives 
an  incontrovertible  answer : 

"  I  am  a  Kentucky  man  myself." 

"  Shake ! "  cried  Yates  briefly,  as  he  reached  his 
hand  across  the  bar.  "  How  is  it  you  happen  to  be 
here?" 

"  Well,  I  got  into  a  little  trouble  in  Louisville,  and 
here  I  am,  where  I  can  at  least  look  at  God's  country." 

"  Hold  on,"  protested  Yates.  "  You're  making 
only  one  cocktail." 

"  Didn't  you  say  one  ?  "  asked  the  man,  pausing 
in  the  compounding. 

"  Bless  you,  I  never  saw  one  cocktail  made  in  my 
life.  You  are  with  me  on  this." 

"  Just  as  you  say,"  replied  the  other,  as  he  pre- 
pared enough  for  two. 

"  Now  I'll  tell  you  my  fix,"  said  Yates  confiden- 
tially. "  I've  got  a  tent  and  some  camp  things 
down  below  at  the  custom-house  shanty,  and  I  want 
to  get  them  taken  into  the  woods,  where  I  can  camp 
out  with  a  friend.  I  want  a  place  where  we  can 
have  absolute  rest  and  quiet.  Do  you  know  the 
country  round  here?  Perhaps  you  could  recom- 
mend a  spot." 

"  Well,  for  all  the  time  I've  been  here,  I  know 
precious  little  about  the  back  country.  I've  been 
down  the  road  to  Niagara  Falls,  but  never  out  into 
the  woods.  I  suppose  you  want  some  place  by  the 
lake  or  the  river  ?  " 

"No,  I  don't.  I  want  to  get  clear  back  into  the 
forest — if  there  is  a  forest." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          27 

"  Well,  there's  a  man  in  to-day  from  somewhere 
near  Ridgeway,  I  think.  He's  got  a  hay-rack  with 
him,  and  that  would  be  just  the  thing  to  take  your 
tent  and  poles.  Wouldn't  be  very  comfortable 
travelling  for  you,  but  it  would  be  all  right  for  the 
tent,  if  it's  a  big  one." 

"  That  will  suit  us  exactly.  We  don't  care  a  cent 
about  the  comfort.  Roughing  it  is  what  we  came 
for.  Where  will  I  find  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he'll  be  along  here  soon.  That's  his  team 
tied  there  on  the  side  street.  If  he  happens  to  be 
in  good  humour,  he'll  take  your  things,  and  as  like  as 
not  give  you  a  place  to  camp  in  his  woods.  Hiranj 
Bartlett's  his  name.  And,  talking  of  the  old  Nick 
himself,  here  he  is.  I  say,  Mr.  Bartlett,  this  gentle- 
man was  wondering  if  you  couldn't  tote  out  some 
of  his  belongings.  He's  going  out  your  way." 

Bartlett  was  a  somewhat  uncouth  and  wiry  speci- 
men of  the  Canadian  farmer  who  evidently  paid 
little  attention  to  the  subject  of  dress.  He  said 
nothing,  but  looked  in  a  lowering  way  at  Yates, 
with  something  of  contempt  and  suspicion  in  his 
glance. 

Yates  had  one  receipt  for  making  the  acquaintance 
of  all  mankind.  "Come  in,  Mr.  Bartlett,"  he  said 
cheerily,  "and  try  one  of  my  friend's  excellent 
cocktails." 

"  I  take  mine  straight,"  growled  Bartlett  gruffly, 
although  he  stepped  inside  the  open  door.  "  I  don't 
want  no  Yankee  mixtures  in  mine.  Plain  whisky's 
good  enough  for  any  man,  if  he  is  a  man.  I 


28  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

don't  take  no  water,  neither.  I've  got  trouble 
enough." 

The  bartender  winked  at  Yates  as  he  shoved  the 
decanter  over  to  the  newcomer. 

"  Right  you  are,"  assented  Yates  cordially. 

The  farmer  did  not  thaw  out  in  the  least  because 
of  this  prompt  agreement  with  him,  but  sipped  his 
whisky  gloomily,  as  if  it  were  a  most  disagreeable 
medicine. 

"  What  did  you  want  me  to  take  out  ?  "  he  said  at 
last. 

"  A  friend  and  a  tent,  a  jug  of  whisky  and  a  lot  of 
jolly  good  tobacco." 

"  How  much  are  you  willing  to  pay  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I'm  always  willing  to  do 
what's  right.  How  would  five  dollars  strike  you  ?  " 

The  farmer  scowled  and  shook  his  head. 

"Too  much,"  he  said,  as  Yates  was  about  to  offer 
more.  "  'Tain't  worth  it.  Two  and  a  half  would  be 
about  the  right  figure.  Don'no  but  that's  too  much. 
I'll  think  on  it  going  home,  and  charge  you  what  it's 
worth.  I'll  be  ready  to  leave  in  about  an  hour,  if 
that  suits  you.  That's  my  team  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road.  If  it's  gone  when  you  come  back,  I'm 
gone,  an*  you'll  have  to  get  somebody  else." 

With  this  Bartlett  drew  his  coat-sleeve  across  his 
mouth  and  departed. 

"  That's  him  exactly,"  said  the  barkeeper.  "  He's 
the  most  cantankerous  crank  in  the  township.  And 
say,  let  me  give  you  a  pointer.  If  the  subject  of 
1812  comes  up, — the  war,  you  know, — you'd  bettei 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  29 

admit  that  we  got  thrashed  out  of  our  boots ;  that 
is,  if  you  want  to  get  along  with  Hiram.  He  hates 
Yankees  like  poison." 

"  And  did  we  get  thrashed  in  1812  ?"  asked  Yates, 
who  was  more  familiar  with  current  topics  than  with 
the  history  of  the  past. 

"  Blessed  if  I  know.  Hiram  says  we  did.  I  told 
him  once  that  we  got  what  we  wanted  from  old 
England,  and  he  nearly  hauled  me  over  the  bar. 
So  I  give  you  the  warning,  if  you  want  to  get  along 
with  him." 

"Thank  you.     I'll  remember  it.     So  long." 

This  friendly  hint  from  the  man  in  the  tavern 
offers  a  key  to  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  Yates' 
success  on  the  New  York  press.  He  could  get  news 
when  no  other  man  could.  Flippant  and  shallow  as 
he  undoubtedly  was,  he  somehow  got  into  the  inner 
confidences  of  all  sorts  of  men  in  a  way  that  made 
them  give  him  an  inkling  of  anything  that  was  going 
on  for  the  mere  love  of  him ;  and  thus  Yates  often 
received  valuable  assistance  from  his  acquaintances 
which  other  reporters  could  not  get  for  money. 

The  New  Yorker  found  the  professor  sitting  on  a 
bench  by  the  custom-house,  chatting  with  the  officer, 
and  gazing  at  the  rapidly  flowing  broad  blue  river  in 
front  of  them. 

"  I  have  got  a  man,"  said  Yates,  "  who  will  take 
us  out  into  the  wilderness  in  about  an  hour's  time. 
Suppose  we  explore  the  town.  I  expect  nobody 
will  run  away  with  the  tent  till  we  come  back." 

"  I'll  look  after  that,"  said  the  officer;  and,  thank- 


30  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ing  him,  the  two  friends  strolled  up  the  street.  They 
were  a  trifle  late  in  getting  back,  and  when  they 
reached  the  tavern,  they  found  Bartlett  just  on  the 
point  of  driving  home.  He  gruffly  consented  to 
take  them,  if  they  did  not  keep  him  more  than  five 
minutes  loading  up.  The  tent  and  its  belongings 
were  speedily  placed  on  the  hay-rack,  and  then  Bart- 
lett drove  up  to  the  tavern  and  waited,  saying  noth- 
ing, although  he  had  been  in  such  a  hurry  a  few  mo- 
ments before.  Yates  did  not  like  to  ask  the  cause 
of  the  delay  ;  so  the  three  sat  there  silently.  After 
a  while  Yates  said  as  mildly  as  he  could  : 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  anyone,  Mr.  Bartlett  ?  " 
"Yes,"  answered  the  driver  in  a  surly  tone,    "  I'm 
waiting  for  you  to  go  in  fur  that  jug.     I  don't  sup- 
pose you  rilled  it  to  leave  it  on  the  counter." 

"  By  Jove  ! "  cried  Yates,  springing  off,  "  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  it,  which  shows  the  extraordinary 
effect  this  country  has  on  me  already."  The  pro- 
fessor frowned,  but  Yates  came  out  merrily,  with 
the  jar  in  his  hand,  and  Bartlett  started  his  team. 
They  drove  out  of  the  village  and  up  a  slight  hill, 
going  for  a  mile  or  two  along  a  straight  and  some- 
what sandy  road.  Then  they  turned  into  the  Ridge 
Road,  as  Bartlett  called  it,  in  answer  to  a  question 
by  the  professor,  and  there  was  no  need  to  ask  why 
it  was  so  termed.  It  was  a  good  highway,  but  rather 
stony,  the  road  being,  in  places,  on  the  bare  rock. 
It  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  Euclid's  defini- 
tion of  a  straight  line,  and  in  this  respect  was  rather 
a  welcome  change  from  the  average  American  road. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  31 

Sometimes  they  passed  along  avenues  of  overbranch- 
ing  trees,  which  were  evidently  relics  of  the  forest 
that  once  covered  all  the  district.  The  road  followed 
the  ridge,  and  on  each  side  were  frequently  to  be 
seen  wide  vistas  of  lower  lying  country.  All  along 
the  road  were  comfortable  farmhouses ;  and  it  was 
evident  that  a  prosperous  community  flourished 
along  the  ridge. 

Bartlett  spoke  only  once,  and  then  to  the  pro- 
fessor, who  sat  next  to  him. 

"  You  a  Canadian  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Where's  he  from  ?  " 

"  My  friend  is  from  New  York,"  answered  the  in- 
nocent professor. 

"  Humph  !  "  grunted  Bartlett,  scowling  deeper 
than  ever,  after  which  he  became  silent  again.  The 
team  was  not  going  very  fast,  although  neither  the 
load  nor  the  road  was  heavy.  Bartlett  was  mutter- 
ing a  good  deal  to  himself,  and  now  and  then  brought 
down  his  whip  savagely  on  one  or  the  other  of  the 
horses;  but  the  moment  the  unfortunate  animals 
quickened  their  pace  he  hauled  them  in  roughly. 
Nevertheless,  they  were  going  quickly  enough  to  be 
overtaking  a  young  woman  who  was  walking  on 
alone.  Although  she  must  have  heard  them  com- 
ing over  the  rocky  road  she  did  not  turn  her  head, 
but  walked  along  with  the  free  and  springy  step  of 
one  who  is  not  only  accustomed  to  walking,  but  who 
likes  it.  Bartlett  paid  no  attention  to  the  girl ;  the 
professor  was  endeavouring  to  read  his  thin  book  as 


32  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

well  as  a  man  might  who  is  being  jolted  frequently; 
but  Yates,  as  soon  as  he  recognised  that  the  pedes- 
trian was  young,  pulled  up  his  collar,  adjusted  his 
necktie  with  care,  and  placed  his  hat  in  a  somewhat 
more  jaunty  and  fetching  position. 

"  Are  you  going  to  offer  that  girl  a  ride  ?  "  he  said 
to  Bartlett. 

"No,  I'm  not." 

"  I  think  that  is  rather  uncivil,"  he  added,  forget- 
ting the  warning  he  had  had. 

"  You  do,  eh  ?  Well,  you  offer  her  a  ride.  You 
hired  the  team." 

"  By  Jove !  I  will,"  said  Yates,  placing  his  hand 
on  the  outside  of  the  rack,  and  springing  lightly  to 
the  ground. 

"  Likely  thing,"  growled  Bartlett  to  the  professor, 
"  that  she's  going  to  ride  with  the  like  of  him." 

The  professor  looked  for  a  moment  at  Yates,  po- 
litely taking  off  his  hat  to  the  apparently  astonished 
young  woman,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  Fur  two  cents,"  continued  Bartlett,  gathering  up 
the  reins,  "  I'd  whip  up  the  horses,  and  let  him  walk 
the  rest  of  the  way." 

"  From  what  I  know  of  my  friend,"  answered  the 
professor  sic v.'y,  "  I  think  he  would  not  object  in 
the  slightest." 

Bartlett  muttered  something  to  himself,  and 
seemed  to  change  his  mind  about  galloping  his 
horses. 

Meanwhile,  Yates,  as  has  been  said,  took  off  his 
hat  with  great  politeness  to  the  fair  pedestrian,  and 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  33 

as  he  did  so  he  noticed,  with  a  thrill  of  admiration, 
that  she  was  very  handsome.  Yates  always  had  an 
eye  for  the  beautiful. 

"  Our  conveyance,"  he  began,  "  is  not  as  comfort- 
able as  it  might  be,  yet  I  shall  be  very  happy  if  you 
will  accept  its  hospitalities." 

The  young  woman  flashed  a  brief  glance  at  him 
from  her  dark  eyes,  and  for  a  moment  Yates  feared 
that  his  language  had  been  rather  too  choice  for  her 
rural  understanding,  but  before  he  could  amend  his 
phrase  she  answered  briefly  : 

"  Thank  you.     I  prefer  to  walk." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  blame  you.  May 
I  ask  if  you  have  come  all  the  way  from  the 
village  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  That  is  a  long  distance,  and  you  must  be  very 
tired."  There  was  no  reply;  so  Yates  continued. 
"  At  least,  I  thought  it  a  long  distance ;  but  per- 
haps that  was  because  I  was  riding  on  Bartlett's  hay- 
rack. There  is  no  '  downy  bed  of  ease '  about  his 
vehicle." 

As  he  spoke  of  the  waggon  he  looked  at  it,  and, 
striding  forward  to  its  side,  said  in  a  husky  whisper 
to  the  professor : 

"  Say,  Stilly,  cover  up  that  jug  with  a  flap  of  the 
tent." 

"  Cover  it  up  yourself,"  briefly  replied  the  other ; 
"it  isn't  mine." 

Yates  reached  across  and,  in  a  sort  of  accidental 
way,  threw  the  flap  of  the  tent  over  the  too  con- 
3 


34  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

spicuous  jar.  As  an  excuse  for  his  action  he  took 
up  his  walking-cane  and  turned  toward  his  new  ac- 
quaintance. He  was  flattered  to  see  that  she  was 
loitering  some  distance  behind  the  waggon,  and  he 
speedily  rejoined  her.  The  girl,  looking  straight 
ahead,  now  quickened  her  pace,  and  rapidly  short- 
ened the  distance  between  herself  and  the  vehicle. 
Yates,  with  the  quickness  characteristic  of  him, 
made  up  his  mind  that  this  was  a  case  of  country 
diffidence,  which  was  best  to  be  met  by  the  bring- 
ing down  of  his  conversation  to  the  level  of  his 
hearer's  intelligence. 

"  Have  you  been  marketing?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  Butter  and  eggs,  and  that  sort  of  thing?" 

"  We  are  farmers,"  she  answered,  "  and  we  sell 
butter  and  eggs  " — a  pause — "  and  that  sort  of 
thing." 

Yates  laughed  in  his  light  and  cheery  way.  As 
he  twirled  his  cane  he  looked  at  his  pretty  com- 
panion. She  was  gazing  anxiously  ahead  toward  a 
turn  in  the  road.  Her  comely  face  was  slightly 
flushed,  doubtless  with  the  exercise  of  walking. 

"  Now,  in  my  country,"  continued  the  New-Yorker, 
"  we  idolise  our  women.  Pretty  girls  don't  tramp 
miles  to  market  with  butter  and  eggs." 

"  Aren't  the  girls  pretty — in  your  country.?  " 

Yates  made  a  mental  note  that  there  was  not  as 
much  rurality  about  this  girl  as  he  had  thought  at 
first.  There  was  a  piquancy  about  the  conversation 
which  he  liked.  That  she  shared  his  enjoyment 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  35 

was  doubtful,  for  a  slight  line  of  resentment  was 
noticeable  on  her  smooth  brow. 

"  You  bet  they're  pretty  !  I  think  all  American 
girls  are  pretty.  It  seems  their  birthright.  When 
I  say  American,  I  mean  the  whole  continent,  of 
course.  I'm  from  the  States  myself — from  New 
York."  He  gave  an  extra  twirl  to  his  cane  as  he 
said  this,  and  bore  himself  with  that  air  of  conscious 
superiority  which  naturally  pertains  to  a  citizen  of 
the  metropolis.  "  But  over  in  the  States  we  think 
the  men  should  do  all  the  work  and  that  the  women 
should — well,  spend  the  money.  I  must  do  our 
ladies  the  justice  to  say  that  they  attend  strictly 
to  their  share  of  the  arrangement." 

"  It  should  be  a  delightful  country  to  live  in — for 
the  women." 

"  They  all  say  so.  We  used  to  have  an  adage  to 
the  effect  that  America  was  paradise  for  women, 
purgatory  for  men,  and — well,  an  entirely  different 
sort  of  place  for  oxen." 

There  was  no  doubt  that  Yates  had  a  way  of  get- 
ting along  with  people.  As  he  looked  at  his  com- 
panion he  was  gratified  to  note  just  the  faintest  sus- 
picion of  a  smile  hovering  about  her  lips.  Before 
she  could  answer,  if  she  had  intended  to  do  so,  there 
was  a  quick  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  hard  road  ahead, 
and  the  next  instant  an  elegant  buggy,  whose  slen- 
der jet-black  polished  spokes  flashed  and  twinkled 
in  the  sunlight,  came  dashing  past  the  waggon. 
On  seeing  the  two  walking  together,  the  driver 
hauled  up  his  team  with  a  suddenness  that  was 


36  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

evidently  not  relished  by  the  spirited  dappled  span 
he  drove. 

"  Hello,  Margaret !  "  he  cried  ;  "  am  I  late  ?  Have 
you  walked  in  all  the  way  ?  " 

"  You  are  just  in  good  time,"  answered  the  girl, 
without  looking  toward  Yates,  who  stood  aimlessly 
twirling  his  cane.  The  young  woman  put  her  foot 
on  the  buggy  step,  and  sprang  lightly  in  beside  the 
driver.  It  needed  no  second  glance  to  see  that  he 
was  her  brother,  not  only  on  account  of  the  family 
ressemblance  between  them,  but  also  because  he  al- 
lowed her  to  get  into  the  buggy  without  offering 
the  slightest  assistance,  which,  indeed,  was  not 
needed,  and  graciously  permitted  her  to  place  the 
duster  that  covered  his  knees  over  her  own  lap  as 
well.  The  restive  team  trotted  rapidly  down  the 
road  for  a  few  rods,  until  they  came  to  a  wide  place 
in  the  highway,  and  then  whirled  round  seemingly 
within  an  ace  of  upsetting  the  buggy  ;  but  the  young 
man  evidently  knew  his  business,  and  held  them  in 
with  a  firm  hand.  The  waggon  was  jogging  along 
where  the  road  was  very  narrow,  and  Bartlett  kept 
his  team  stolidly  in  the  centre  of  the  way. 

"  Hello,  there,  Bartlett  !  "  shouted  the  young  man 
in  the  buggy ;  "  half  the  road,  you  know — half  the 
road." 

"  Take  it,"  cried  Bartlett  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Come,  come,  Bartlett,  get  out  of  the  way,  or  I'll 
run  you  down." 

"  You  just  try  it.  " 

Bartlett  either  had  no  sense  of  humour  or  his  re- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  37 

scntment  against  his  young  neighbour  smothered  it, 
since  otherwise  he  would  have  recognised  that  a 
heavy  waggon  was  in  no  danger  of  being  run  into  by  a 
light  and  expensive  buggy.  The  young  man  kept  his 
temper  admirably,but  he  knew  just  where  to  touch  the 
elder  on  the  raw.  His  sister's  hand  was  placed  appeal- 
ingly  on  his  arm.  He  smiled,  and  took  no  notice  of  her. 

"  Come,  now,  you  move  out,  or  I'll  have  the  law 
on  you." 

"  The  law  ! "  roared  Bartlett ;  "  you  just  try  it  on." 

"  Should  think  you'd  had  enough  of  it  by  this 
time." 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't,  Henry  !  "  protested  the  girl  in 
distress. 

"  There  ain't  no  law,"  yelled  Bartlett,  "  that  kin 
make  a  man  with  a  load  move  out  fur  anything." 

"  You  haven't  any  load,  unless  it's   in  that  jug." 

Yates  saw  with  consternation  that  the  jar  had 
been  jolted  out  from  under  its  covering,  but  the 
happy  consolation  came  to  him  that  the  two  in  the 
buggy  would  believe  it  belonged  to  Bartlett.  He 
thought,  however,  that  this  dog-in-the-manger  policy 
had  gone  far  enough.  He  stepped  briskly  forward, 
and  said  to  Bartlett : 

"  Better  drive  aside  a  little,  and  let  them  pass." 

"  You  'tend  to  your  own  business,"  cried  the 
thoroughly  enraged  farmer. 

"  I  will,"  said  Yates  shortly,  striding  to  the 
horses'  heads.  He  took  them  by  the  bits  and,  in 
spite  of  Bartlett's  maledictions  and  pulling  at  the  lines, 
he  drew  them  to  one  side,  so  that  the  buggy  got  by. 


38  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Thank  you,"  cried  the  young  man.  The  light 
and  glittering  carriage  rapidly  disappeared  up  the 
Ridge  Road. 

Bartlett  sat  there  for  one  moment  the  picture  of 
baffled  rage.  Then  he  threw  the  reins  down  on  the 
backs  of  his  patient  horses,  and  descended. 

"  You  take  my  horses  by  the  head,  do  you,  you 
good-fur-nothin' Yank?  You  do,  eh  ?  I  like  your 
cheek.  Touch  my  horses  an'  me  a-holdin'  the  lines! 
Now,  you  hear  me  ?  Your  traps  comes  right  off 
here  on  the  road.  You  hear  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  anybody  within  a  mile  can  hear  you." 

"  Kin  they  ?     Well,  off  comes  your  pesky  tent." 

"  No,  it  doesn't." 

"Don't  it,  eh?  Well,  then,  you'll  lick  me  fust; 
and  that's  something  no  Yank  ever  did  nor  kin  do." 

"  I'll  do  it  with  pleasure." 

•'  Come,  come,"  cried  the  professor,  getting  down 
on  the  road,  "  this  has  gone  far  enough.  Keep  quiet, 
Yates.  Now,  Mr.  Bartlett,  don't  mind  it ;  he  meant 
no  disrespect." 

"  Don't  you  interfere.  You're  all  right,  an*  I  ain't 
got  nothin'  ag'in  you.  But  I'm  goin'  to  thrash  this 
Yank  within  an  inch  of  his  life  ;  see  if  I  don't.  We 
met  'em  in  1812,  an'  we  fit  'em  an'  we  licked  'em, 
an'  we  can  do  it  ag'in.  I'll  learn  ye  to  take  my 
horses  by  the  head." 

"  Teach,"  suggested  Yates  tantalisingly. 

Before  he  could  properly  defend  himself,  Bartlett 
sprang  at  him  and  grasped  him  round  the  waist. 

Yates  was  something  of  a  wrestler  himself,  but  hw 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  39 

skill  was  of  no  avail  on  this  occasion.  Bartlett's 
right  leg  became  twisted  around  his  with  a  steel-like 
grip  that  speedily  convinced  the  younger  man  he 
would  have  to  give  way  or  a  bone  would  break.  He 
gave  way  accordingly,  and  the  next  thing  he  knew 
he  came  down  on  his  back  with  a  thud  that  seemed 
to  shake  the  universe. 

"  There,  darn  ye  !  "  cried  the  triumphant  farmer  ; 
"  that's  1812  and  Queenstown  Heights  for  ye.  How 
do  you  like  'em  ?" 

Yates  rose  to  his  feet  with  some  deliberation,  and 
slowly  took  off  his  coat. 

"  Now,  now,  Yates,"  said  the  professor  soothingly, 
"let  it  go  at  this.  You're  not  hurt,  are  you?  "  he 
asked  anxiously,  as  he  noticed  how  white  the  young 
man  was  around  the  lips. 

"  Look  here,  Renmark ;  you're  a  sensible  man. 
There  is  a  time  to  interfere  and  a  time  not  to. 
This  is  the  time  not  to.  A  certain  international 
element  seems  to  have  crept  into  this  dispute. 
Now,  you  stand  aside,  like  a  good  fellow,  for  I  don't 
want  to  have  to  thrash  both  of  you." 

The  professor  stood  aside,  for  he  realised  that, 
when  Yates  called  him  by  his  last  name,  matters 
were  serious. 

"  Now,  old  chucklehead,  perhaps  you  would  like 
to  try  that  again." 

"  I  kin  do  it  a  dozen  times,  if  ye  ain't  satisfied. 
There  ain't  no  Yank  ever  raised  on  pumpkin  pie  that 
can  stand  ag'in  that  grapevine  twist." 

"  Try  the  grapevine  once  more." 


40  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Bartlett  proceeded  more  cautiously  this  time,  for 
there  was  a  look  in  the  young  man's  face  he  did  not 
quite  like.  He  took  a  catch-as-catch-can  attitude, 
and  moved  stealthily  in  a  semicircle  around  Yates, 
who  shifted  his  position  constantly,  so  as  to  keep 
facing  his  foe.  At  last  Bartlett  sprang  forward,  and 
the  next  instant  found  himself  sitting  on  a  piece  of  the 
rock  of  the  country,  with  a  thousand  humming-birds 
buzzing  in  his  head,  while  stars  and  the  landscape 
around  joined  in  a  dance  together.  The  blow  was 
sudden,  well  placed,  and  from  the  shoulder. 

"  That,"  said  Yates,  standing  over  him,  "  is  1776 — 
the  Revolution — when,  to  use  your  own  phrase,  we 
met  ye,  fit  ye,  and  licked  ye.  How  do  you  like  it  ? 
Now,  if  my  advice  is  of  any  use  to  you,  take  a  broad- 
er view  of  history  than  you  have  done.  Don't  con- 
fine yourself  too  much  to  one  period.  Study  up  the 
War  of  the  Revolution  a  bit." 

Bartlett  made  no  reply.  After  sitting  there  for  a 
while,  until  the  surrounding  landscape  assumed  its 
normal  condition,  he  arose  leisurely,  without  saying 
a  word.  He  picked  the  reins  from  the  backs  of  the 
horses  and  patted  the  nearest  animal  gently.  Then 
he  mounted  to  his  place  and  drove  off.  The  pro- 
fessor had  taken  his  seat  beside  the  driver,  but  Yates, 
putting  on  his  coat  and  picking  up  his  cane,  strode 
along  in  front,  switching  off  the  heads  of  Canada 
thistles  with  his  walking-stick  as  he  proceeded. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BARTLETT  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  but  there 
was  evidently  something  on  his  mind,  for  he  com- 
muned with  himself,  his  mutterings  growing  louder 
and  louder,  until  they  broke  the  stillness ;  then  he 
struck  the  horses,  pulled  them  in,  and  began  his 
soliloquy  over  again.  At  last  he  said  abruptly  to  the 
professor : 

"  What's  this  Revolution  he  talked  about  ?  " 
"  It  was  the  War  of  Independence,  beginning  in 
1776." 

"  Never  heard  of  it.     Did  the  Yanks  fight  us?" 
"  The  colonies  fought  with  England." 
"  What  colonies  ?" 

"  The  country  now  called  the  United  States." 
"  They  fit  with  England,  eh  ?     Which  licked  ?  " 
"  The  colonies  won  their  independence." 
"  That  means  they  licked  us.     I   don't  believe  a 
word  of  it.     Tears  to  me  I'd  V  heard  of  it ;  fur  I've 
lived  in  these  parts  a  long  time." 
"  It  was  a  little  before  your  day." 
"  So  was  1812;  but  my  father  fit  in  it,  an'  I  never 
heard  him  tell  of  this  Revolution.     He'd  'a'  known, 
I  sh'd  think.     There's  a  nigger  in  the  fence  some- 
wheres." 

41 


42  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Well,  England  was  rather  busy  at  the  time  with 
the  French." 

"Ah,  that  was  it,  was  it?  I'll  bet  England  never 
knew  the  Revolution  was  a-goin'  on  till  it  was  over. 
Old  Napoleon  couldn't  thrash  'em,  and  it  don't 
stand  to  reason  that  the  Yanks  could.  I  thought 
there  was  some  skullduggery.  Why,  it  took  the 
Yanks  four  years  to  lick  themselves.  I  got  a  book 
at  home  all  about  Napoleon.  He  was  a  tough  cuss." 

The  professor  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  defend 
the  character  of  Napoleon,  and  so  silence  once  more 
descended  upon  them.  Bartlett  seemed  a  good  deal 
disturbed  by  the  news  he  had  just  heard  of  the 
Revolution,  and  he  growled  to  himself,  while  the 
horses  suffered  more  than  usual  from  the  whip  and 
the  hauling  back  that  invariably  followed  the  stroke. 
Yates  was  some  distance  ahead,  and  swinging  along 
at  a  great  rate,  when  the  horses,  apparently  of  their 
own  accord,  turned  in  at  an  open  gateway  and  pro- 
ceeded, in  their  usual  leisurely  fashion,  toward  a 
large  barn,  past  a  comfortable  frame  house  with 
a  wide  veranda  in  front. 

"  This  is  my  place,"  said  Bartlett  shortly. 

"  I  wish  you  had  told  me  a  few  minutes  ago,"  re- 
plied the  professor,  springing  off,  "  so  that  I  might 
have  called  to  my  friend." 

"  I'm  not  frettin'  about  him,"  said  Bartlett,  throw- 
ing the  reins  to  a  young  man  who  came  out  of  the 
house. 

Renmark  ran  to  the  road  and  shouted  loudly  to 
the  distant  Yates.  Yates  apparently  did  not  hear 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  43 

him,  but  something  about  the  next  house  attracted 
the  pedestrian's  attention,  and  after  standing  for  a 
moment  and  gazing  toward  the  west  he  looked  around 
and  saw  the  professor  beckoning  to  him.  When  the 
two  men  met,  Yates  said  : 

"  So  we  have  arrived,  have  we  ?  I  say,  Stilly,  she 
lives  in  the  next  house.  I  saw  the  buggy  in  the 
yard." 

"She!    Who?" 

"  Why,  that  good-looking  girl  we  passed  on  the 
road.  I'm  going  to  buy  our  supplies  at  that  house, 
Stilly,  if  you  have  no  objections.  By  the  way,  how 
is  my  old  friend  1812  ?  " 

"  He  doesn't  seem  to  harbour  any  harsh  feelings. 
In  fact,  he  was  more  troubled  about  the  Revolution 
than  about  the  blow  you  gave  him." 

"  News  to  him,  eh  ?  Well,  I'm  glad  I  knocked 
something  into  his  head." 

"You  certainly  did  it  most  unscientifically." 

"  How  do  you  mean — unscientifically?" 

"  In  the  delivery  of  the  blow.  I  never  saw  a  more 
awkwardly  delivered  undercut." 

Yates  looked  at  his  friend  in  astonishment.  How 
should  this  calm,  learned  man  know  anything  about 
undercuts  or  science  in  blows? 

"  Well,  you  must  admit  I  got  there  just  the  same." 

"Yes,  by  brute  force.  A  sledge-hammer  would 
have  done  as  well.  But  you  had  such  an  opportunity 
to  do  it  neatly  and  deftly,  without  any  display  of 
surplus  energy,  that  I  regretted  to  see  such  an  open- 
ing thrown  away." 


44  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  Stilly,  this  is  the  professor 
in  a  new  light !  What  do  you  teach  in  Toronto 
University,  anyhow?  The  noble  art  of  self-de- 
fense ?  " 

"  Not  exactly  ;  but  if  you  intend  to  go  through 
Canada  in  this  belligerent  manner,  I  think  it  would 
be  worth  your  while  to  take  a  few  hints  from  me." 

"With  striking  examples,  I  suppose.  By  Jove  ! 
I  will,  Stilly." 

As  the  two  came  to  the  house  they  found  Bartlett 
sitting  in  a  wooden  rocking-chair  on  the  veranda, 
looking  grimly  down  the  road. 

"  What  an  old  tyrant  that  man  must  be  in  his 
home  !  "  said  Yates.  There  was  no  time  for  the  pro- 
fessor to  reply  before  they  came  within  ear-shot. 

"  The  old  woman's  setting  out  supper,"  said  the 
farmer,  gruffly,  that  piece  of  information  being  ap- 
parently as  near  as  he  could  get  toward  inviting  them 
to  share  his  hospitality.  Yates  didn't  know  whether 
it  was  meant  for  an  invitation  or  not,  but  he  answered 
shortly  : 

"  Thanks,  we  won't  stay." 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  please,"  snarled  Bartlett. 

"  Of  course  I  go  with  my  friend,"  said  Renmark  ; 
"  but  we  are  obliged  for  the  invitation." 

"  Please  yourselves." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  a  cheery  voice  from  the  in- 
side of  the  house,  as  a  stout,  rosy,  and  very  good- 
natured-looking  woman  appeared  at  the  front  door. 
"Won't  stay?  Who  won't  stay?  I'd  like  to  see 
anybody  leave  my  house  hungry  when  there's  a  meal 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  45 

on  the  table  !  And,  young  men,  if  you  can  get  a 
better  meal  anywhere  on  the  Ridge  than  what  I'll 
give  you,  why,  you're  welcome  to  go  there  next 
time,  but  this  meal  you'll  have  here,  inside  of  ten 
minutes.  Hiram,  that's  your  fault.  You  always  in- 
vite a  person  to  dinner  as  if  you  wanted  to  wrastle 
with  him !  " 

Hiram  gave  a  guilty  start,  and  looked  with  some- 
thing of  mute  appeal  at  the  two  men,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  Never  mind  him,"  continued  Mrs.  Bartlett. 
"  You're  at  my  house  ;  and,  whatever  my  neighbours 
may  say  ag'in  me,  I  never  heard  anybody  complain 
of  the  lack  of  good  victuals  while  I  was  able  to  do 
the  cooking.  Come  right  in  and  wash  yourselves,  for 
the  road  between  here  and  the  Fort  is  dusty  enough, 
even  if  Hiram  never  was  taken  up  for  fast  driving. 
Besides,  a  wash  is  refreshing  after  a  hot  day." 

There  was  no  denying  the  cordiality  of  this  invk 
tation,  and  Yates,  whose  natural  gallantry  was  at 
once  aroused,  responded  with  the  readiness  of  a 
courtier.  Mrs.  Bartlett  led  the  way  into  the  house  ; 
but  as  Yates  passed  the  farmer  the  latter  cleared  his 
throat  with  an  effort,  and,  throwing  his  thumb  over 
his  shoulder  in  the  direction  his  wife  had  taken,  said 
in  a  husky  whisper  : 

"  No  call  to — to  mention  the  Revolution,  you 
know." 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  Yates,  with  a  wink  that 
took  in  the  situation.  "  Shall  we  sample  the  jug 
before  or  after  supper  ?  " 


46  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  After,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you  ;  "  adding,  "  out 
in  the  barn." 

Yates  nodded,  and  followed  his  friend  into  the 
house. 

The  young  men  were  shown  into  a  bedroom  of 
more  than  ordinary  size,  on  the  upper  floor.  Every- 
thing about  the  house  was  of  the  most  dainty  and 
scrupulous  cleanliness,  and  an  air  of  cheerful  comfort 
pervaded  the  place.  Mrs.  Bartlett  was  evidently  a 
housekeeper  to  be  proud  of.  Two  large  pitchers  of 
cool,  soft  water  awaited  them,  and  the  wash,  as  had 
been  predicted,  was  most  refreshing. 

"  I  say,"  cried  Yates,  "it's  rather  cheeky  to  accept 
a  man's  hospitality  after  knocking  him  down." 

"  It  would  be  for  most  people,  but  I  think  you 
underestimate  your  cheek,  as  you  call  it." 

"  Bravo,  Stilly !  You're  blossoming  out.  That's 
rapartee,  that  is.  With  the  accent  on  the  rap,  too. 
Never  you  mind  ;  I  think  old  1812  and  I  will  get  on 
all  right  after  this.  It  doesn't  seem  to  bother  him 
any,  so  I  don't  see  why  it  should  worry  me.  Nice 
motherly  old  lady,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"Who?     1812?" 

"  No;  Mrs.  1812.  I'm  sorry  I  complimented  you 
on  your  repartee.  You'll  get  conceited.  Remember 
that  what  in  the  newspaper  man  is  clever,  in  a  grave 
professor  is  rank  flippancy.  Let's  go  down." 

The  table  was  covered  with  a  cloth  as  white  and 
spotless  as  good  linen  can  well  be.  The  bread  was 
genuine  home-made,  a  term  so  often  misused  in  the 
cities.  It  was  brown  as  to  crust,  and  flaky  and  light 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  47 

as  to  interior.  The  butter,  cool  from  the  rock  cellar, 
was  of  a  refreshing  yellow  hue.  The  sight  of  the 
well-loaded  table  was  most  welcome  to  the  eyes  of 
hungry  travellers.  There  was,  as  Yates  afterward 
remarked,  "  abundance,  and  plenty  of  it." 

"  Come,  father  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett,  as  the  young 
men  appeared ;  they  heard  the  rocking-chair  creak 
on  the  veranda  in  prompt  answer  to  the  sum- 
mons. 

"  This  is  my  son,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett, 
indicating  the  young  man  who  stood  in  a  non-com- 
mittal attitude  near  a  corner  of  the  room.  The  pro- 
fessor recognised  him  as  the  person  who  had  taken 
charge  of  the  horses  when  his  father  came  home. 
There  was  evidently  something  of  his  father's 
demeanour  about  the  young  man,  who  awkwardly 
and  silently  responded  to  the  recognition  of  the 
strangers. 

"  And  this  is  my  daughter,"  continued  the  good 
woman.  "  Now,  what  might  your  names  be  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Yates,  and  this  is  my  friend  Profes- 
sor Renmark  of  T'ronto,"  pronouncing  the  name  of 
the  fair  city  in  two  syllables,  as  is,  alas !  too  often 
done.  The  professor  bowed,  and  Yates  cordially  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  the  young  woman.  "  How  do 
you  do,  Miss  Bartlett?"  he  said,  "I  am  happy  to 
meet  you." 

The  girl  smiled  very  prettily,  and  said  she  hoped 
they  had  a  pleasant  trip  out  from  Fort  Erie. 

"  Oh,  we  had,"  said  Yates,  looking  for  a  moment 
at  his  host,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  table-cloth, 


48  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

and  who  appeared  to  be  quite  content  to  let  his  wife 
run  the  show.  "  The  road's  a  little  rocky  in  places, 
but  it's  very  pleasant." 

"  Now,  you  sit  down  here,  and  you  here,"  said 
Mrs.  Bartlett ;  "  and  I  do  hope  you  have  brought 
good  appetites  with  you." 

The  strangers  took  their  places,  and  Yates  had  a 
chance  to  look  at  the  younger  member  of  the  fam- 
ily, which  opportunity  he  did  not  let  slip.  It  was 
hard  to  believe  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  so 
crusty  a  man  as  Hiram  Bartlett.  Her  cheeks  were 
rosy,  with  dimples  in  them  that  constantly  came  and 
went  in  her  incessant  efforts  to  keep  from  laughing. 
Her  hair,  which  hung  about  her  plump  shoulders, 
was  a  lovely  golden  brown.  Although  her  dress 
was  of  the  cheapest  material,  it  was  neatly  cut  and 
fitted  ;  and  her  dainty  white  apron  added  that  touch 
of  wholesome  cleanliness  which  was  so  noticeable 
everywhere  in  the  house.  A  bit  of  blue  ribbon  at 
her  white  throat,  and  a  pretty  spring  flower  just  be- 
low it,  completed  a  charming  picture,  which  a  more 
critical  and  less  susceptible  man  than  Yates  might 
have  contemplated  with  pleasure. 

Miss  Bartlett  sat  smilingly  at  one  end  of  the  table, 
and  her  father  grimly  at  the  other.  The  mother  sat 
at  the  side,  apparently  looking  on  that  position  as  one 
of  vantage  for  commanding  the  whole  field,  and  keep- 
ing her  husband  and  her  daughter  both  under  her 
eye.  The  teapot  and  cups  were  set  before  the  young 
woman.  She  did  not  pour  out  the  tea  at  once,  but 
seemed  to  be  waiting  instructions  from  her  mother. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  49 

That  good  lady  was  gazing  with  some  sternness  at 
her  husband,  he  vainly  endeavouring  to  look  at  the 
ceiling  or  anywhere  but  at  her.  He  drew  his  open 
hand  nervously  down  his  face,  which  was  of  unusual 
gravity  even  for  him.  Finally  he  cast  an  appealing 
glance  at  his  wife,  who  sat  with  her  hands  folded  on 
her  lap,  but  her  eyes  were  unrelenting.  After  a 
moment's  hopeless  irresolution  Bartlett  bent  his  head 
over  his  plate  and  murmured  : 

"  For  what  we  are  about  to  receive,  oh,  make  us 
truly  thankful.  Amen." 

Mrs.  Bartlett  echoed  the  last  word,  having  also 
bowed  her  head  when  she  saw  surrender  in  the 
troubled  eyes  of  her  husband. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Yates,  who  had  seen  noth- 
ing of  this  silent  struggle  of  the  eyes,  being  exceed- 
ingly hungry,  was  making  every  preparation  for  the 
energetic  beginning  of  the  meal.  He  had  spent 
most  of  his  life  in  hotels  and  New  York  boarding- 
houses,  so  that  if  he  ever  knew  the  adage,  "  Grace 
before  meat,"  he  had  forgotten  it.  In  the  midst  of 
his  preparations  came  the  devout  words,  and  they 
came  upon  him  as  a  stupefying  surprise.  Although 
naturally  a  resourceful  man,  he  was  not  quick  enough 
this  time  to  cover  his  confusion.  Miss  Bartlett's 
golden  head  was  bowed,  but  out  of  the  corner  of  her 
eye  she  saw  Yates'  look  of  amazed  bewilderment, 
and  his  sudden  halt  of  surprise.  When  all  heads 
were  raised,  the  young  girl's  still  remained  where  it 
was,  while  her  plump  shoulders  quivered.  Then  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  apron,  and  the  silvery 
4 


50  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ripple  of  a  laugh  came  like  a  smothered  musical 
chime  trickling  through  her  fingers. 

"Why,  Kitty!"  cried  her  mother  in  astonish- 
ment, "  whatever  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

The  girl  could  no  longer  restrain  her  mirth. 
"  You'll  have  to  pour  out  the  tea,  mother!  "  she  ex- 
claimed, as  she  fled  from  the  room. 

"  For  the  land's  sake  ! "  cried  the  astonished 
mother,  rising  to  take  her  frivolous  daughter's  place, 
"  what  ails  the  child  ?  I  don't  see  what  there  is  to 
laugh  at." 

Hiram  scowled  down  the  table,  and  was  evidently 
also  of  the  opinion  that  there  was  no  occasion  for 
mirth.  The  professor  was  equally  in  the  dark. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Bartlett,"  said  Yates,  "  that  I 
am  the  innocent  cause  of  Miss  Kitty's  mirth.  You 
see,  madam — it's  a  pathetic  thing  to  say,  but  really 
I  have  had  no  home  life.  Although  I  attend  church 
regularly,  of  course,"  he  added  with  jaunty  men- 
dacity, "  I  must  confess  that  I  haven't  heard  grace 
at  meals  for  years  and  years,  and — well,  I  wasn't  just 
prepared  for  it.  I  have  no  doubt  I  made  an  exhi- 
bition of  myself,  which  your  daughter  was  quick  to 
see." 

"  It  wasn't  very  polite,"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett  with 
some  asperity. 

"  I  know  that,"  pleaded  Yates,  with  contrition, 
"  but  I  assure  you  it  was  unintentional  on  my 
part." 

"  Bless  the  man  !  "  cried  his  hostess.  "  I  don't 
mean  you.  I  mean  Kitty.  But  that  girl  never 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  51 

could  keep  her  face  straight.  She  always  favoured 
me  more  than  her  father." 

This  statement  was  not  difficult  to  believe,  for 
Hiram  at  that  moment  looked  as  if  he  had  never 
smiled  in  his  life.  He  sat  silent  throughout  the 
meal,  but  Mrs.  Bartlett  talked  quite  enough  foi 
two. 

"  Well,  for  my  part,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  know 
what  farming  is  coming  to!  Henry  Howard  and 
Margaret  drove  past  here  this  afternoon  as  proud  as 
Punch  in  their  new  covered  buggy.  Things  is  very 
different  from  what  they  was  when  I  was  a  girl. 
Then  a  farmer's  daughter  had  to  work.  Now  Mar- 
garet's took  her  diploma  at  the  ladies'  college,  and 
Arthur  he's  begun  at  the  university,  and  Henry's 
sporting  round  in  a  new  buggy.  They  have  a  piano 
there,  with  the  organ  moved  out  into  the  back 
room." 

"  The  whole  Howard  lot's  a  stuck-up  set,"  mut- 
tered the  farmer. 

But  Mrs.  Bartlett  wouldn't  have  that.  Any  de- 
traction that  was  necessary  she  felt  competent  to 
supply,  without  help  from  the  nominal  head  of  the 
house. 

"  No,  I  don't  go  so  far  as  to  say  that.  Neither  would 
you,  Hiram,  if  you  hadn't  lost  your  lawsuit  about 
the  line  fence ;  and  served  you  right,  too,  for  it 
wouldn't  have  been  begun  if  I  had  been  at  home  at 
the  time.  Not  but  what  Margaret's  a  good  house- 
keeper, for  she  wouldn't  be  her  mother's  daughter  if 
she  wasn't  that ;  but  it  does  seem  to  me  a  queer 


52  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

way  to  raise  farmers'  children,  and  I  only  hope  they 
can  keep  it  up.  There  were  no  pianos  nor  French 
and  German  in  my  young  days." 

"  You  ought  to  hear  her  play  !  My  lands  !  "  cried 
young  Bartlett,  who  spoke  for  the  first  time.  His 
admiration  for  her  accomplishment  evidently  went 
beyond  his  powers  of  expression. 

Bartlett  himself  did  not  relish  the  turn  the  con- 
versation had  taken,  and  he  looked  somewhat  un- 
easily at  the  two  strangers.  The  professor's  coun- 
tenance was  open  and  frank,  and  he  was  listening 
with  respectful  interest  to  Mrs.  Bartlett's  talk. 
Yates  bent  over  his  plate  with  flushed  face,  and  con- 
fined himself  strictly  to  the  business  in  hand. 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  the  professor  innocently  to 
Yates,  "  that  you  made  the  young  lady's  acquaint- 
ance. I  must  ask  you  for  an  introduction." 

For  once  in  his  life  Yates  had  nothing  to  say,  but 
he  looked  at  his  friend  with  an  expression  that  was 
not  kindly.  The  latter,  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Bartlett's 
inquiries,  told  how  they  had  passed  Miss  Howard 
on  the  road,  and  how  Yates,  with  his  usual  kindness 
of  heart,  had  offered  the  young  woman  the  hospital- 
ities of  the  hay-rack.  Two  persons  at  the  table  were 
much  relieved  when  the  talk  turned  to  the  tent.  It 
was  young  Hiram  who  brought  about  this  boon. 
He  was  interested  in  the  tent,  and  he  wanted  to 
know.  Two  things  seemed  to  bother  the  boy : 
First,  he  was  anxious  to  learn  what  diabolical  cause 
had  been  at  work  to  induce  two  apparently  sane 
men  to  give  up  the  comforts  of  home  and  live  in 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  53 

this  exposed  manner,  if  they  were  not  compelled  to 
do  so.  Second,  he  desired  to  find  out  why  people 
who  had  the  privilege  of  living  in  large  cities  came 
of  their  own  accord  into  the  uninteresting  country, 
anyhow.  Even  when  explanations  were  offered,  the 
problem  seemed  still  beyond  him. 

After  the  meal  they  all  adjourned  to  the  veranda, 
where  the  air  was  cool  and  the  view  extensive. 
Mrs.  Bartlett  would  not  hear  of  the  young  men 
pitching  the  tent  that  night. 

"  Goodness  knows,  you  will  have  enough  of  it, 
with  the  rain  and  the  mosquitoes.  We  have  plenty 
of  room  here,  and  you  will  have  one  comfortable 
night  on  the  Ridge,  at  any  rate.  Then  in  the 
morning  you  can  find  a  place  in  the  woods  to  suit 
you,  and  my  boy  will  take  an  axe  and  cut  stakes  for 
you,  and  help  to  put  up  your  precious  tent.  Only 
remember  that  when  it  rains  you  are  to  come  to  the 
house,  or  you  will  catch  your  deaths  with  cold  and 
rheumatism.  It  will  be  very  nice  till  the  novelty 
wears  off ;  then  you  are  quite  welcome  to  the  front 
rooms  upstairs,  and  Hiram  can  take  the  tent  back 
to  Erie  the  first  time  he  goes  to  town." 

Mrs.  Bartlett  had  a  way  of  taking  things  for 
granted.  It  never  seemed  to  occur  to  her  that  any 
of  her  rulings  might  be  questioned.  H  iram  sat  gazing 
silently  at  the  road,  as  if  all  this  was  no  affair  of  his. 

Yates  had  refused  a  chair,  and  sat  on  the  edge  of 
the  veranda,  with  his  back  against  one  of  the  pillars, 
in  such  a  position  that  he  might,  without  turning 
his  head,  look  through  the  open  doorway  into  the 


54  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

room  where  Miss  Bartlett  was  busily  but  silently 
clearing  away  the  tea-things.  The  young  man 
caught  fleeting  glimpses  of  her  as  she  moved  airily 
about  her  work.  He  drew  a  cigar  from  his  case, 
cut  off  the  end  with  his  knife,  and  lit  a  match  on 
the  sole  of  his  boot,  doing  this  with  an  easy  auto- 
matic familiarity  that  required  no  attention  on  his 
part ;  all  of  which  aroused  the  respectful  envy  of 
young  Hiram,  who  sat  on  a  wooden  chair,  leaning 
forward,  eagerly  watching  the  man  from  New  York. 

"  Have  a  cigar?  "  said  Yates,  offering  the  case  to 
young  Hiram. 

"  No,  no  ;  thank  you,"  gasped  the  boy,  aghast  at 
the  reckless  audacity  of  the  proposal. 

"What's  that?"  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett.  Although 
she  was  talking  volubly  to  the  professor,  her 
maternal  vigilance  never  even  nodded,  much  less 
slept.  "A  cigar?  Not  likely!  I'll  say  this  for 
my  husband  and  my  boy :  that,  whatever  else  they 
may  have  done,  they  have  never  smoked  nor  touched 
a  drop  of  liquor  since  I've  known  them,  and,  please 
God,  they  never  will." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  it  wouldn't  hurt  them,"  said  Yates, 
with  a  lack  of  tact  that  was  not  habitual.  He  fell 
several  degrees  in  the  estimation  of  his  hostess. 

"Hurt  'em?"  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett  indignantly. 
"  I  guess  it  won't  get  a  chance  to."  She  turned  to 
the  professor,  who  was  a  good  listener — respectful 
and  deferential,  with  little  to  say  for  himself.  She 
rocked  gently  to  and  fro  as  she  talked. 

Her  husband  sat  unbendingly  silent,  in  a  sphinx- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  55 

like  attitude  that  gave  no  outward  indication  of  his 
mental  uneasiness.  He  was  thinking  gloomily  that 
it  would  be  just  his  luck  to  meet  Mrs.  Bartlett  un- 
expectedly in  the  streets  of  Fort  Erie  on  one  of 
those  rare  occasions  when  he  was  enjoying  the 
pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season.  He  had  the  most  pes- 
simistic forebodings  of  what  the  future  might  have 
in  store  for  him.  Sometimes,  when  neighbours  or 
customers  "  treated  "  him  in  the  village,  and  he  felt 
he  had  taken  all  the  whisky  that  cloves  would  con- 
ceal, he  took  a  five-cent  cigar  instead  of  a  drink. 
He  did  not  particularly  like  the  smoking  of  it,  but 
there  was  a  certain  devil-may-care  recklessness  in 
going  down  the  street  with  a  lighted  cigar  in  his 
teeth,  which  had  all  the  more  fascination  for  him 
because  of  its  manifest  danger.  He  felt  at  these 
times  that  he  was  going  the  pace,  and  that  it  is  well 
our  women  do  not  know  of  all  the  wickedness  there 
is  in  this  world.  He  did  not  fear  that  any  neighbour 
might  tell  his  wife,  for  there  were  depths  to  which 
no  person  could  convince  Mrs.  Bartlett  he  would 
descend.  But  he  thought  with  horror  of  some  com- 
bination of  circumstances  that  might  bring  his  wife 
to  town  unknown  to  him  on  a  day  when  he  indulged. 
He  pictured,  with  a  shudder,  meeting  her  unexpect- 
edly on  the  uncertain  plank  sidewalk  of  Fort  Erie, 
he  smoking  a  cigar.  When  this  nightmare  presented 
itself  to  him,  he  resolved  never  to  touch  a  cigar 
again ;  but  he  well  knew  that  the  best  resolutions 
fade  away  if  a  man  is  excited  with  two  or  three 
glasses  of  liquor. 


$6  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

When  Mrs.  Bartlett  resumed  conversation  with 
the  professor,  Yates  looked  up  at  young  Hiram  and 
winked.  The  boy  flushed  with  pleasure  under  the 
comprehensiveness  of  that  wink.  It  included  him 
in  the  attractive  halo  of  crime  that  enveloped  the 
fascinating  personality  of  the  man  from  New  York. 
It  seemed  to  say  : 

"  That's  all  right,  but  we  are  men  of  the  world. 
We  know." 

Young  Hiram's  devotion  to  the  Goddess  Nicotine 
had  never  reached  the  altitude  of  a  cigar.  He  had 
surreptitiously  smoked  a  pipe  in  a  secluded  corner 
behind  the  barn  in  days  when  his  father  was  away. 
He  feared  both  his  father  and  his  mother,  and  so 
was  in  an  even  more  embarrassing  situation  than 
old  Hiram  himself.  He  had  worked  gradually  up  to 
tobacco  by  smoking  cigarettes  of  cane  made  from 
abandoned  hoop-skirts.  Crinoline  was  fashionable, 
even  in  the  country,  in  those  days,  and  ribs  of  cane 
were  used  before  the  metallic  distenders  of  dresses 
came  in.  One  hoop-skirt,  whose  usefulness  as  an 
article  of  adornment  was  gone,  would  furnish  de- 
light and  smoking  material  for  a  company  of  boys 
for  a  month.  The  cane  smoke  made  the  tongue 
rather  raw,  but  the  wickedness  was  undeniable. 
Yates'  wink  seemed  to  recognise  young  Hiram  as  a 
comrade  worthy  to  offer  incense  at  the  shrine,  and 
the  boy  was  a  firm  friend  of  Yates  from  the  moment 
the  eyelid  of  the  latter  drooped. 

The  tea-things  having  been  cleared  away,  Yates 
got  no  more  glimpses  of  the  girl  through  the  open 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  57 

door.  He  rose  from  his  lowly  seat  and  strolled 
toward  the  gate,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  He 
remembered  that  he  had  forgotten  something,  and 
cudgelled  his  brains  trying  to  make  out  what  it  was. 
He  gazed  down  the  road  at  the  house  of  the  How- 
ards, which  naturally  brought  to  his  recollection  his 
meeting  with  the  young  girl  on  the  road.  There 
was  a  pang  of  discomfiture  in  this  thought  when 
he  remembered  the  accomplishments  attributed  to 
her  by  Mrs.  Bartlett.  He  recalled  his  condescend- 
ing tone  to  her,  and  recollected  his  anxiety  about 
the  jar.  The  jar !  That  was  what  he  had  forgotten. 
He  flashed  a  glance  at  old  Hiram,  and  noted  that 
the  farmer  was  looking  at  him  with  something  like 
reproach  in  his  eyes.  Yates  moved  his  head  almost 
imperceptibly  toward  the  barn,  and  the  farmer's 
eyes  dropped  to  the  floor  of  the  veranda.  The 
young  man  nonchalantly  strolled  past  the  end  of 
the  house. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  to  look  after  the  horses,"  said  the 
farmer,  rising. 

"The  horses  are  all  right,  father.  I  saw  to  them," 
put  in  his  son,  but  the  old  man  frowned  him  down, 
and  slouched  around  the  corner  of  the  house.  Mrs. 
Bartlett  was  too  busy  talking  to  the  professor  to 
notice.  So  good  a  listener  did  not  fall  to  her  lot 
every  day. 

"  Here's  looking  at  you,"  said  Yates,  strolling  into 
the  barn,  taking  a  telescopic  metal  cup  from  his 
pocket,  and  clinking  it  into  receptive  shape  by  a  jerk 
of  the  hand.  He  offered  the  now  elongated  cup  to 


58  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Hiram,  who   declined    any   such  modern    improve, 
ment. 

"  Help  yourself  in  that  thing.  The  jug's  good 
enough  for  me." 

"  Three  fingers  "  of  the  liquid  gurgled  out  into  the 
patented  vessel,  and  the  farmer  took  the  jar,  after  a 
furtive  look  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Well,  here's  luck."  The  newspaper  man  tossed 
off  the  potion  with  the  facility  of  long  experience, 
shutting  up  the  dish  with  his  thumb  and  finger,  as  if 
it  were  a  metallic  opera  hat. 

The  farmer  drank  silently  from  the  jar  itself. 
Then  he  smote  in  the  cork  with  his  open  palm. 

"  Better  bury  it  in  the  wheat  bin,"  he  said  mo- 
rosely. "  The  boy  might  find  it  if  you  put  it  among 
the  oats — feedin'  the  horses,  ye  know." 

"  Mighty  good  place,"  assented  Yates,  as  the 
golden  grain  flowed  in  a  wave  over  the  submerged 
jar.  "  I  say,  old  man,  you  know  the  spot ;  you've 
been  here  before." 

Bartlett's  lowering  countenance  indicated  resent- 
ment at  the  imputation,  but  he  neither  affirmed  nor 
denied.  Yates  strolled  out  of  the  barn,  while  the 
farmer  went  through  a  small  doorway  that  led  to  the 
stable.  A  moment  later  he  heard  Hiram  Calling  loudly 
to  his  son  to  bring  the  pails  and  water  the  horses. 

"  Evidently  preparing  an  alibi"  said  Yates,  srnil 
ing  to  himself,  as  he  sauntered  toward  the  gate. 


CHAPTER   V 

"WHAT'S  up?  what's  up?"  cried  Yates  drowsily 
next  morning,  as  a  prolonged  hammering  at  his  door 
awakened  him. 

"  Well,  you  re  not,  anyhow."  He  recognised  the 
voice  of  young  Hiram.  "  I  say,  breakfast's  ready. 
The  professor  has  been  up  an  hour." 

"All  right;  I'll  be  down  shortly,"  said  Yates, 
yawning,  adding  to  himself :  "  Hang  the  professor  ! " 
The  sun  was  streaming  in  through  the  east  window, 
but  Yates  never  before  remembered  seeing  it  such  a 
short  distance  above  the  horizon  in  the  morning. 
He  pulled  his  watch  from  the  pocket  of  his  vest, 
hanging  on  the  bedpost.  It  was  not  yet  seven 
o'clock.  He  placed  it  to  his  ear,  thinking  it  had 
stopped,  but  found  himself  mistaken. 

"  What  an  unearthly  hour,"  he  said,  unable  to 
check  the  yawns.  Yates'  years  on  a  morning  news- 
paper had  made  seven  o'clock  something  like  mid- 
night to  him.  He  had  been  unable  to  sleep  until 
after  two  o'clock,  his  usual  time  of  turning  in,  and 
now  this  rude  awakening  seemed  thoughtless  cruelty. 
However,  he  dressed,  and  yawned  himself  down- 
stairs. 

59 


60  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

They  were  all  seated  at  breakfast  when  Yates  en- 
tered the  apartment,  which  was  at  once  dining-room 
and  parlour. 

"Waiting  for  you,"  said  young  Hiram  humor- 
ously, that  being  one  of  a  set  of  jokes  which  suited 
various  occasions.  Yates  took  his  place  near  Miss 
Kitty,  who  looked  as  fresh  and  radiant  as  a  spirit  of 
the  morning. 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  kept  you  waiting  long,"  he 
said. 

"  No  fear,"  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett.  "  If  breakfast's  a 
minute  later  than  seven  o'clock,  we  soon  hear  of  it 
from  the  men-folks.  They  get  precious  hungry  by 
that  time." 

"  By  that  time  ?  "  echoed  Yates.  "  Then  do  they 
get  up  before  seven  ?  " 

"  Laws !  what  a  farmer  you  would  make,  Mr. 
Yates  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bartlett,  laughing.  "  Why, 
everything's  done  about  the  house  and  barn  ;  horses 
fed,  cows  milked — everything.  There  never  was  a 
better  motto  made  than  the  one  you  learned  when 
you  were  a  boy,  and  like  as  not  have  forgotten  all 
about : 

"  '  Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise 

Makes  a  man  healthy,  wealthy  and  -wise.' 

I'm  sorry  you  don't  believe  in  it,  Mr.  Yates." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Yates  with  some  lofti- 
ness; "but  I'd  like  to  see  a  man  get  out  a  morning 
paper  on  such  a  basis.  I'm  healthy  enough,  quite 
as  wealthy  as  the  professor  here,  and  everyone  will 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  61 

admit  that  I'm  wiser  than  he  is ;  yet  I  never  go  to 
bed  until  after  two  o'clock,  and  rarely  wake  before 
noon." 

Kitty  laughed  at  this,  and  young  Hiram  looked 
admiringly  at  the  New  Yorker,  wishing  he  was  as 
clever. 

"  For  the  land's  sake  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett,  with 
true  feminine  profanity.  "  What  do  you  do  up  so 
late  as  that  ?  " 

*  "  Writing,  writing,"  said  Yates  airily ;  "  articles 
that  make  dynasties  tremble  next  morning,  and 
which  call  forth  apologies  or  libel  suits  afterward,  as 
the  case  may  be." 

Young  Hiram  had  no  patience  with  one's  profes- 
sion as  a  topic  of  conversation.  The  tent  and  its 
future  position  was  the  burning  question  with  him. 
He  mumbled  something  about  Yates  having  slept 
late  in  order  to  avoid  the  hearing  of  the  words  of 
thankfulness  at  the  beginning  of  the  meal.  What 
his  parents  caught  of  this  remark  should  have  shown 
them  how  evil  communications  corrupt  good  man- 
ners ;  for,  big  as  he  was,  the  boy  had  never  before 
ventured  even  to  hint  at  ridicule  on  such  a  subject. 
He  was  darkly  frowned  upon  by  his  silent  father, 
and  sharply  reprimanded  by  his  voluble  mother. 
Kitty  apparently  thought  it  rather  funny,  and 
would  like  to  have  laughed.  As  it  was,  she  con- 
tented herself  with  a  sly  glance  at  Yates,  who,  in- 
credible as  it  may  seem,  actually  blushed  at  young 
Hiram's  allusion  to  the  confusing  incident  of  the  day 
before. 


62  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

The  professor,  who  was  a  kind-hearted  man,  drew 
a  herring  across  the  scent. 

"  Mr.  Bartlett  has  been  good  enough,"  said  he, 
changing  the  subject,  "  to  say  we  may  camp  in  the 
woods  at  the  back  of  the  farm.  I  have  been  out 
there  this  morning,  and  it  certainly  is  a  lovely 
spot." 

"We're  awfully  obliged,  Mr.  Bartlett,"  saidYates. 
"  Of  course  Renmark  went  out  there  merely  to  show 
the  difference  between  the  ant  and  the  butterfly. 
You'll  find  out  what  a  humbug  he  is  by  and  by,  Mrs. 
Bartlett.  He  looks  honest ;  but  you  wait." 

"  I  know  just  the  spot  for  the  tent,"  cried  young 
Hiram — "  down  in  the  hollow  by  the  creek.  Then 
you  won't  need  to  haul  water." 

"  Yes,  and  catch  their  deaths  of  fever  and  ague," 
said  Mrs.  Bartlett.  Malaria  had  not  then  been  in- 
vented. "  Take  my  advice,  and  put  your  tent — if 
you  will  put  it  up  at  all — on  the  highest  ground  you 
can  find.  Hauling  water  won't  hurt  you." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Mrs.  Bartlett.  It  shall  be  so. 
My  friend  uses  no  water — you  ought  to  have  seen 
his  bill  at  the  Buffalo  hotel.  I  have  it  somewhere, 
and  am  going  to  pin  it  up  on  the  outside  of  the  tent 
as  a  warning  to  the  youth  of  this  neighborhood — and 
what  water  I  need  I  can  easily  carry  up  from  the 
creek." 

The  professor  did  not  defend  himself,  and  Mrs. 
Bartlett  evidently  took  a  large  discount  from  all  that 
Yates  said.  She  was  a  shrewd  woman. 

After  breakfast  the  men  went  out  to  the  barn.  The 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  63 

horses  were  hitched  to  the  waggon,  which  still  con- 
tained the  tent  and  fittings.  Young  Hiram  threw 
an  axe  and  a  spade  among  the  canvas  folds,  mounted 
to  his  place,  and  drove  up  the  lane  leading  to  the 
forest,  followed  by  Yates  and  Renmark  on  foot,  leav- 
ing the  farmer  in  his  barnyard  with  a  cheery  good- 
by,  which  he  did  not  see  fit  to  return. 

First,  a  field  of  wheat ;  next,  an  expanse  of  waving 
hay  that  soon  would  be  ready  for  the  scythe ;  then, 
a  pasture  field,  in  which  some  young  horses  galloped 
to  the  fence,  gazing  for  a  moment  at  the  harnessed 
horses,  whinnying  sympathetically,  off  the  next  with 
flying  heels  wildly  flung  in  the  air,  rejoicing  in  their 
own  contrast  of  liberty,  standing  at  the  farther  cor- 
ner and  snorting  defiance  to  all  the  world ;  last,  the 
cool  shade  of  the  woods  into  which  the  lane  ran, 
losing  its  identity  as  a  waggon  road  in  diverging  cow- 
paths.  Young  Hiram  knew  the  locality  well,  and 
drove  direct  to  an  ideal  place  for  camping.  Yates 
was  enchanted.  He  included  all  that  section  of  the 
country  in  a  sweeping  wave  of  his  hand,  and  burst 
forth  : 

" 'This  is  the  spot,  the  centre  of  the  grove  : 

There  stands  the  oak,  the  monarch  of  the  wood. 
In  such  a  place  as  this,  at  such  an  hour, 
Well  raise  a  tent  to  ward  off  sun  and  shower.' 

Shakespeare  improved." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Renmark. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Couldn't  be  a  better  camping 
ground." 


64  IN  'THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  that.  I  selected  it  two  hours  ago. 
But  you  were  wrong  in  your  quotation.  It  is  not 
by  Shakespeare  and  yourself,  as  you  seem  to  think." 

"  Isn't  it  ?  Some  other  fellow,  eh  ?  Well,  if  Shake, 
is  satisfied,  I  am.  Do  you  know,  Renny,  I  calculate 
that,  line  for  line,  I've  written  about  ten  times  as 
much  as  Shakespeare.  Do  the  literati  recognise  that 
fact  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  This  is  an  ungrateful  world, 
Stilly." 

"  It  is,  Dick.  Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
toward  putting  up  the  tent  ?  " 

"  Everything,  my  boy,  everything.  I  know  more 
about  putting  up  tents  than  you  do  about  science, 
or  whatever  you  teach.  Now,  Hiram,  my  boy,  you 
cut  me  some  stakes  about  two  feet  long — stout  ones. 
Here,  professor,  throw  off  that  coat  and  n/gligJ man- 
ner, and  grasp  this  spade.  I  want  some  trenches 
dug." 

Yates  certainly  made  good  his  words.  He  under- 
stood the  putting  up  of  tents,  his  experience  in  the 
army  being  not  yet  remote.  Young  Hiram  gazed 
with  growing  admiration  at  Yates'  deftness  and  evi- 
dent knowledge  of  what  he  was  about,  while  his 
contempt  for  the  professor's  futile  struggle  with 
a  spade  entangled  in  tree  roots  was  difficult  to 
repress. 

"  Better  give  me  that  spade,"  he  said  at  length  ; 
but  there  was  an  element  of  stubbornness  in  Ren- 
mark's  character.  He  struggled  on. 

At  last  the  work  was  completed,  stakes  driven, 
ropes  tightened,  trenches  dug, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  65 

Yates  danced,  and  gave  the  war  whoop  of  the 
country. 

"  Thus  the  canvas  tent  has  risen, 
All  the  slanting  stakes  are  driven, 
Stakes  of  oak  and  stakes  of  beechwood : 
Mops  his  brow,  the  tired  professor  ; 
Grins  with  satisfaction,  Hiram  ; 
Dances  wildly,  the  reporter — 
Calls  aloud  for  gin  and  water. 

Longfellow,  old  man,  Longfellow.  Bet  you  a  dollar 
on  it !  "  And  the  frivolous  Yates  poked  the  profes- 
sor in  the  ribs. 

"  Richard,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  can  stand  only  a 
certain  amount  of  this  sort  of  thing.  I  don't  wish 
to  call  any  man  a  fool,  but  you  act  remarkably  like 
one." 

"  Don't  be  mealy-mouthed,  Renny ;  call  a  spade  a 
spade.  By  George!  young  Hiram  has  gone  off  and 

forgotten  his And  the  axe,  too  !  Perhaps  they're 

left  for  us.  He's  a  good  fellow,  is  young  Hiram.  A 
fool?  Of  course  I'm  a  fool.  That's  what  I  came 
for,  and  that's  what  I'm  going  to  be  for  the  next  two 
weeks.  *  A  fool — a  fool,  I  met  a  fool  i'  the  forest ' 
— just  the  spot  for  him.  Who  could  be  wise  here 
after  years  of  brick  and  mortar  ? 

"  Where  are  your  eyes,  Renny,"  he  cried,  "  that 
you  don't  grow  wild  when  you  look  around  you  ? 
See  the  dappled  sunlight  filtering  through  the  leaves ; 
listen  to  the  murmur  of  the  wind  in  the  branches ; 
hear  the  trickle  of  the  brook  down  there ;  notice  the 
smooth  bark  of  the  beech  and  the  rugged  covering 
of  the  oak  ;  smell  the  wholesome  woodland  scents. 


66  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Renmark,  you  have  no  soul,  or  you  could  not  be  so 
unmoved.  It  is  like  paradise.  It  is —  Say, 
Renny,  by  Jove,  I've  forgotten  that  jug  at  the 
barn ! " 

"  It  will  be  left  there." 

"  Will  it  ?     Oh,  well,  if  you  say  so." 

"  I  do  say  so.  I  looked  around  for  it  this  morn- 
ing to  smash  it,  but  couldn't  find  it." 

"  Why  didn't  you  ask  old  Bartlett  ?  " 

"  I  did ;  but  he  didn't  know  where  it  was." 

Yates  threw  himself  down  on  the  moss  and 
laughed,  flinging  his  arms  and  legs  about  with  the  joy 
of  living. 

"  Say,  Culture,  have  you  got  any  old  disreputable 
clothes  with  you  ?  Well,  then,  go  into  the  tent  and 
put  them  on ;  then  come  out  and  lie  on  your  back 
and  look  up  at  the  leaves.  You're  a  good  fellow, 
Renny,  but  decent  clothes  spoil  you.  You  won't 
know  yourself  when  you  get  ancient  duds  on  your 
back.  Old  clothes  mean  freedom,  liberty,  all  that 
our  ancestors  fought  for.  When  you  come  out,  we'll 
settle  who's  to  cook  and  who  to  wash  dishes.  I've 
settled  it  already  in  my  own  mind,  but  I  am  not  so 
selfish  as  to  refuse  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you." 

When  the  professor  came  out  of  the  tent,  Yates 
roared.  Renmark  himself  smiled  ;  he  knew  the  effect 
would  appeal  to  Yates. 

"  By  Jove !  old  man,  I  ought  to  have  included  a 
mirror  in  the  outfit.  The  look  of  learned  respecta- 
bility, set  off  with  the  garments  of  a  disreputable 
tramp,  makes  a  combination  that  is  simply  killing. 


67 

Well,  you  can't  spoil  that  suit,  anyhow.  Now 
sprawl." 

"  I'm  very  comfortable  standing  up,  thank  you." 

"  Get  down  on  your  back.     You  hear  me?" 

"  Put  me  there." 

"  You  mean  it  ?  "  asked  Yates,  sitting  up. 

"  Certainly." 

"  Say,  Renny,  beware.     I  don't  want  to  hurt  you." 

"  I'll  forgive  you  for  once." 

"  On  your  head  be  it." 

"  On  my  back,  you  mean." 

"  That's  not  bad,  Renny,"  cried  Yates,  springing 
to  his  feet.  "  Now,  it  will  hurt.  You  have  fair 
warning.  I  have  spoken." 

The  young  men  took  sparring  attitudes.  Yates 
tried  to  do  it  gently  at  first,  but,  finding  he  could 
not  touch  his  opponent,  struck  out  more  earnestly, 
again  giving  a  friendly  warning.  This  went  on  in- 
effectually for  some  time,  when  the  professor,  with 
a  quick  movement,  swung  around  his  foot  with  the 
airy  grace  of  a  dancing  master,  and  caught  Yates 
just  behind  the  knee,  at  the  same  time  giving  him  a 
slight  tap  on  the  breast.  Yates  was  instantly  on  his 
back. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Renny,  that  wasn't  fair.  That  was 
a  kick." 

"  No,  it  wasn't.  It  is  merely  a  little  French  touch. 
I  learned  it  in  Paris.  They  do  kick  there,  you  know; 
and  it  is  good  to  know  how  to  use  your  feet  as  well 
as  your  fists  if  you  are  set  on  by  three,  as  I  was  one 
night  in  the  Latin  Quarter." 


68  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Yates  sat  up. 

"  Look  here,  Renmark;  when  were  you  in  Paris?" 

"  Several  times." 

Yates  gazed  at  him  for  a  few  moments,  then  said  : 

"  Renny,  you  improve  on  acquaintance.  I  never 
saw  a  Bool-var  in  my  life.  You  must  teach  me  that 
little  kick." 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Renmark,  sitting  down, 
while  the  other  sprawled  at  full  length.  "  Teaching 
is  my  business,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  exercise  any 
talents  I  may  have  in  that  line.  In  endeavouring  to 
instruct  a  New  York  man  the  first  step  is  to  convince 
him  that  he  doesn't  know  everything.  That  is  the 
difficult  point.  Afterward  everything  is  easy." 

"  Mr.  Stillson  Renmark,  you  are  pleased  to  be 
severe.  Know  that  you  are  forgiven.  This  de- 
licious sylvan  retreat  does  not  lend  itself  to  acri- 
monious dispute,  or,  in  plain  English,  quarrelling. 
Let  dogs  delight,  if  they  want  to ;  I  refuse  to  be 
goaded  by  your  querulous  nature  into  giving  any- 
thing but  the  soft  answer.  Now  to  business.  Noth- 
ing is  so  conducive  to  friendship,  when  two  people 
are  camping  out,  as  a  definition  of  the  duties  of  each 
at  the  beginning.  Do  you  follow  me?" 

"  Perfectly.     What  do  you  propose  ?  " 

"  I  propose  that  you  do  the  cooking  and  I  wash 
the  dishes.  We  will  forage  for  food  alternate  days." 

"  Very  well.     I  agree  to  that." 

Richard  Yates  sat  suddenly  upright,  looking  at  his 
friend  with  reproach  in  his  eyes.  "  See  here,  Ren- 
mark ;  are  you  resolved  to  force  on  an  international 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  69 

complication  the  very  first  day  ?  That's  no  fair  show 
to  give  a  man." 

"What  isn't?" 

"  Why,  agreeing  with  him.  There  are  depths  of 
meanness  in  your  character,  Renny,  that  I  never 
suspected.  You  know  that  people  who  camp  out 
always  object  to  the  part  assigned  them  by  their 
fellow-campers.  I  counted  on  that.  I'll  do  any- 
thing but  wash  dishes." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  say  so?" 

"  Because  any  sane  man  would  have  said  '  no '  when 
I  suggested  cooking,  merely  because  I  suggested  it. 
There  is  no  diplomacy  about  you,  Renmark.  A  man 
doesn't  know  where  to  find  you  when  you  act  like 
that.  When  you  refused  to  do  the  cooking,  I  would 
have  said:  'Very  well,  then,  I'll  do  it,'  and  every- 
thing would  have  been  lovely  ;  but  now " 

Yates  lay  down  again  in  disgust.  There  are  mo- 
ments in  life  when  language  fails  a  man. 

"  Then  it's  settled  that  you  do  the  cooking  and  I 
wash  the  dishes  ?  "  said  the  professor. 

"  Settled  ?  Oh,  yes,  if  you  say  so ;  but  all  the 
pleasure  of  getting  one's  own  way  by  the  use  of  one's 
brains  is  gone.  I  hate  to  be  agreed  with  in  that 
objectionably  civil  manner." 

"  Well,  that  point  being  arranged,  who  begins  the 
foraging — you  or  I  ?  " 

"  Both,  Herr  Professor,  both.  I  propose  to  go  to 
the  house  of  the  Howards,  and  I  need  an  excuse  for 
the  first  visit ;  therefore  I  shall  forage  to  a  limited 
extent.  I  go  ostensibly  for  bread.  As  I  may  not 


;o  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

get  any,  you  perhaps  should  bring  some  from  what- 
ever farmhouse  you   choose  as  the  scene  of   your 
operations.     Bread  is   always  handy  in  the  camp, 
fresh  or  stale.     When  in  doubt,  buy  more   bread. 
You  can  never  go  wrong,  and  the  bread  won't." 
"  What  else  should  I  get  ?     Milk,  I  suppose  ?  " 
"  Certainly  ;  eggs,   butter — anything.     Mrs.  Bart- 
lett  will  give  you  hints  on  what  to  get  that  will  be 
more  valuable  than  mine." 

"  Have  you  all  the  cooking  utensils  you  need?  " 
"  I  think  so.     The  villain  from  whom  I  hired  the 
outfit  said  it  was  complete.     Doubtless  he  lied  ;  but 
we'll  manage,  I  think." 

"Very  well.  If  you  wait  until  I  change  my 
clothes,  I'll  go  with  you  as  far  as  the  road." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  be  advised,  and  don't  change. 
You'll  get  everything  twenty  per  cent,  cheaper  in 
that  rig-out.  Besides,  you  are  so  much  more  pic- 
turesque. Your  costume  may  save  us  from  starva- 
tion if  we  run  short  of  cash.  You  can  get  enough 
for  both  of  us  as  a  professional  tramp.  Oh,  well,  if 
you  insist,  I'll  wait.  Good  advice  is  thrown  away 
on  a  man  like  you." 


CHAPTER   VI 

MARGARET  HOWARD  stood  at  the  kitchen  table 
kneading  dough.  The  room  was  called  the  kitchen, 
which  it  was  not,  except  in  winter.  The  stove  was 
moved  out  in  spring  to  a  lean-to,  easily  reached 
through  the  open  door  leading  to  the  kitchen 
veranda. 

When  the  stove  went  out  or  came  in,  it  marked 
the  approach  or  the  departure  of  summer.  It  was  the 
heavy  pendulum  whose  swing  this  way  or  that  indi- 
cated the  two  great  changes  of  the  year.  No  job 
about  the  farm  was  so  much  disliked  by  the  farmer 
and  his  boys  as  the  semi-annual  removal  of  the  stove. 
Soot  came  down,  stovepipes  gratingly  grudged  to  go 
together  again ;  the  stove  was  heavy  and  cumber- 
some, and  many  a  pain  in  a  rural  back  dated  from 
the  journey  of  the  stove  from  outhouse  to  kitchen. 

The  kitchen  itself  was  a  one-storey  building,  which 
projected  back  from  the  two-storey  farmhouse,  giving 
the  whole  a  T-shape.  There  was  a  veranda  on  each 
side  of  the  kitchen,  as  well  as  one  along  the  front 
of  the  house  itself. 

Margaret's  sleeves  were  turned  back  nearly  to  her 
elbows,  showing  a  pair  of  white  and  shapely  arms. 


72          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Now  and  then  she  deftly  dusted  the  kneading  board 
with  flour  to  prevent  the  dough  sticking,  and  as  she 
pressed  her  open  palms  into  the  smooth,  white, 
spongy  mass,  the  table  groaned  protestingly.  She 
cut  the  roll  with  a  knife  into  lumps  that  were  patted 
into  shape,  and  placed  side  by  side,  like  hillocks  of 
snow,  in  the  sheet-iron  pan. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  rap  at  the  open 
kitchen  door,  and  Margaret  turned  round,  startled, 
for  visitors  were  rare  at  that  hour  of  the  day  ;  be- 
sides, neighbours  seldom  made  such  a  concession  to 
formality  as  to  knock.  The  young  girl  flushed  as 
she  recognised  the  man  who  had  spoken  to  her  the 
day  before.  He  stood  smiling  in  the  doorway  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand.  She  uttered  no  word  of  greet- 
ing or  welcome,  but  stood  looking  at  him,  with  her 
hand  on  the  floury  table. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Howard,"  said  Yates 
blithely  ;  "  may  I  come  in  ?  I  have  been  knocking 
for  some  time  fruitlessly  at  the  front  door,  so  I  took 
the  liberty  of  coming  round." 

"  I  did  not  hear  you  knock,"  answered  Margaret. 
She  neglected  to  invite  him  in,  but  he  took  the  per- 
mission for  granted  and  entered,  seating  himself  as 
one  who  had  come  to  stay.  "  You  must  excuse  me 
for  going  on  with  my  work,"  she  added  ;  "  bread  at 
this  stage  will  not  wait." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.  Please  do  not  let  me  inter- 
rupt you.  I  have  made  my  own  bread  for  years,  but 
not  in  that  way.  I  am  glad  that  you  are  making 
bread,  for  I  have  come  to  see  if  I  can  buy  some." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  73 

"  Really  ?  Perhaps  I  can  sell  you  some  butter 
and  eggs  as  well." 

Yates  laughed  in  that  joyous,  free-hearted  manner 
of  his,  which  had  much  to  do  with  his  getting  on  in 
the  world.  It  was  difficult  to  remain  long  angry 
with  so  buoyant  a  nature. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Howard,  I  see  you  haven't  forgiven 
me  for  that  remark.  You  surely  could  not  have 
thought  I  meant  it.  I  really  intended  it  for  a 
joke,  but  I  am  willing  to  admit,  now  that  I  look 
back  on  it,  that  the  joke  was  rather  poor;  but, 
then,  most  of  my  jokes  are  somewhat  shop- 
worn." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  lack  a  sense  of  humour," 

"  All  women  do,"  said  Yates  with  easy  confidence. 
"At  least  all  I've  ever  met." 

Yates  was  sitting  in  a  wooden  chair,  which  he 
now  placed  at  the  end  of  the  table,  tilting  it  back 
until  his  shoulders  rested  against  the  wall.  His  feet 
were  upon  the  rung,  and  he  waved  his  hat  back  and 
forth,  fanning  himself,  for  it  was  warm.  In  this 
position  he  could  look  up  at  the  face  of  the  pretty 
girl  before  him,  whose  smooth  brow  was  touched  with 
just  the  slightest  indication  of  a  faint  frown.  She 
did  not  even  glance  at  the  self-confident  young  man, 
but  kept  her  eyes  fixed  resolutely  on  her  work.  In 
the  silence  the  table  creaked  as  Margaret  kneaded 
the  dough.  Yates  felt  an  unaccustomed  sensation 
of  embarrassment  creeping  over  him,  and  realised 
that  he  would  have  to  re-erect  the  conversation  on  a 
new  basis.  It  was  manifestly  absurd  that  a  resource- 


74  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ful  New  Yorker,  who  had  conversed  unabashed  with 
presidents,  senators,  generals,  and  other  great  people 
of  a  great  nation,  should  be  put  out  of  countenance 
by  the  unaccountable  coldness  of  a  country  girl  in 
the  wilds  of  Canada. 

"  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  properly  intro- 
ducing myself,"  he  said  at  last,  when  the  creaking 
of  the  table,  slight  as  it  was,  became  insupportable. 
"  My  name  is  Richard  Yates,  and  I  come  from  New 
York.  I  am  camping  out  in  this  neighborhood  to 
relieve,  as  it  were,  a  mental  strain — the  result  of 
years  of  literary  work." 

Yates  knew  from  long  experience  that  the  quick- 
est and  surest  road  to  a  woman's  confidence  was 
through  her  sympathy.  "  Mental  strain "  struck 
him  as  a  good  phrase,  indicating  midnight  oil  and 
the  hollow  eye  of  the  devoted  student. 

"Is  your  work  mental,  then?"  asked  Margaret 
incredulously,  flashing,  for  the  first  time,  a  dark-eyed 
look  at  him. 

"Yes,"  Yates  laughed  uneasily.  He  had  mani- 
festly missed  fire.  "  I  notice  by  your  tone  that 
you  evidently  think  my  equipment  meagre.  You 
should  not  judge  by  appearances,  Miss  Howard. 
Most  of  us  are  better  than  we  seem,  pessimists  to 
the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Well,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, the  camping  company  consists  of  two  partners. 
We  are  so  different  in  every  respect  that  we  are  the 
best  of  friends.  My  partner  is  Mr.  Stillson  Ren- 
mark,  professor  of  something  or  other  in  University 
College,  Toronto." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  75 

For  the  first  time  Margaret  exhibited  some  inter- 
est in  the  conversation. 

"  Professor  Renmark  ?     I  have  heard  of  him." 

"  Dear  me  !  I  had  no  idea  the  fame  of  the  pro- 
fessor had  penetrated  beyond  the  precincts  of  the 
university — if  a  university  has  precincts.  He  told 
me  it  had  all  the  modern  improvements,  but  I 
suspected  at  the  time  that  was  merely  Renny's 
brag." 

The  frown  on  the  girl's  brow  deepened,  and  Yates 
was  quick  to  see  that  he  had  lost  ground  again,  if 
indeed  he  had  ever  gained  any,  which  he  began  to 
doubt.  She  evidently  did  not  relish  his  glib  talk 
about  the  university.  He  was  just  about  to  say 
something  deferential  about  that  institution,  for  he 
was  not  a  man  who  would  speak  disrespectfully  of 
the  equator  if  he  thought  he  might  curry  favour  with 
his  auditor  by  doing  otherwise,  when  it  occurred  to 
him  that  Miss  Howard's  interest  was  centred  in  the 
man,  and  not  in  the  university. 

"  In  this  world,  Miss  Howard,"  he  continued,  "  true 
merit  rarely  finds  its  reward ;  at  least,  the  reward 
shows  some  reluctance  in  making  itself  visible  in 
time  for  a  man  to  enjoy  it.  Professor  Renmark  is  a 
man  so  worthy  that  I  was  rather  astonished  to  learn 
that  you  knew  of  him.  I  am  glad  for  his  sake  that 
it  is  so,  for  no  man  more  thoroughly  deserves  fame 
than  he." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  him,"  said  Margaret,  "except 
what  my  brother  has  written.  My  brother  is  a 
student  at  the  university." 


76  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Is  he  really?     And  what  is  he  going  in  for?" 

"  A  good  education." 

Yates  laughed. 

"  Well,  that  is  an  all-round  handy  thing  for  a  per- 
son  to  have  about  him.  I  often  wish  I  had  had 
a  university  training.  Still,  it  is  not  valued  in  an 
American  newspaper  office  as  much  as  might  be. 
Yet,"  he  added  in  a  tone  that  showed  he  did  not 
desire  to  be  unfair  even  to  a  man  of  education,  "  I 
have  known  some  university  men  who  became  pass- 
ably good  reporters  in  time." 

The  girl  made  no  answer,  but  attended  strictly  to 
the  work  in  hand.  She  had  the  rare  gift  of  silence, 
and  these  intervals  of  quiet  abashed  Yates,  whose 
most  frequent  boast  was  that  he  could  outtalk  any 
man  on  earth.  Opposition,  or  even  abuse,  merely 
served  as  a  spur  to  his  volubility,  but  taciturnity 
disconcerted  him. 

"  Well,"  he  cried  at  length,  with  something  like 
desperation,  "  let  us  abandon  this  animated  discus- 
sion on  the  subject  of  education,  and  take  up  the 
more  practical  topic  of  bread.  Would  you  believe, 
Miss  Howard,  that  I  am  an  expert  in  bread- 
making?" 

"  I  think  you  said  already  that  you  made  your 
bread." 

"  Ah,  yes,  but  I  meant  then  that  I  made  it  by  the 
sweat  of  my  good  lead  pencil.  Still,  I  have  made 
bread  in  my  time,  and  I  believe  that  some  of  those 
who  subsisted  upon  it  are  alive  to-day.  The  en- 
durance  of  the  human  frame  is  something  marvel 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  77 

lous,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it.  I  did  the  baking 
in  a  lumber  camp  one  winter.  Used  to  dump  the 
contents  of  a  sack  of  flour  into  a  trough  made  out 
of  a  log,  pour  in  a  pail  or  two  of  melted  snow,  and 
mix  with  a  hoe  after  the  manner  of  a  bricklayer's 
assistant  making  mortar.  There  was  nothing  small 
or  mean  about  my  bread-making.  I  was  in  the 
wholesale  trade." 

"  I  pity  the  unfortunate  lumbermen." 
"  Your  sympathy  is  entirely  misplaced,  Miss 
Howard.  You  ought  to  pity  me  for  having  to 
pander  to  such  appetites  as  those  men  brought  in 
from  the  woods  with  them.  They  never  complained 
of  the  quality  of  the  bread,  although  there  was  oc- 
casionally some  grumbling  about  the  quantity.  I 
have  fed  sheaves  to  a  threshing  machine  and  logs  to 
a  sawmill,  but  their  voracity  was  nothing  to  that  of 
a  big  lumberman  just  in  from  felling  trees.  Enough, 
and  plenty  of  it,  is  what  he  wants.  No  'tabbledote' 
for  him.  He  wants  it  all  at  once,  and  he  wants  it 
right  away.  If  there  is  any  washing  necessary,  he 
is  content  to  do  it  after  the  meal.  I  know  nothing, 
except  a  morning  paper,  that  has  such  an  appetite 
for  miscellaneous  stuff  as  the  man  of  the  woods." 

The  girl  made  no  remark,  but  Yates  could  see 
that  she  was  interested  in  his  talk  in  spite  of  her- 
self. The  bread  was  now  in  the  pans,  and  she  had 
drawn  out  the  table  to  the  middle  of  the  floor;  the 
baking-board  had  disappeared,  and  the  surface  of 
the  table  was  cleaned.  With  a  light,  deft  motion  of 
her  two  hands  she  had  whisked  over  its  surface  the 


78  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

spotlessly  white  cloth,  which  flowed  in  waves  over 
the  table  and  finally  settled  calmly  in  its  place  like 
the  placid  face  of  a  pond  in  the  moonlight.  Yates 
realised  that  the  way  to  success  lay  in  keeping  the 
conversation  in  his  own  hands  and  not  depending 
on  any  response.  In  this  way  a  man  may  best  dis- 
play the  store  of  knowledge  he  possesses,  to  the  ad- 
miration and  bewilderment  of  his  audience,  even 
though  his  store  consists  merely  of  samples  like  the 
outfit  of  a  commercial  traveller;  yet  a  commercial 
traveller  who  knows  his  business  can  so  arrange  his 
samples  on  the  table  of  his  room  in  a  hotel  that  they 
give  the  onlooker  an  idea  of  the  vastness  and  wealth 
of  the  warehouses  from  which  they  are  drawn. 

"  Bread,"  said  Yates  with  the  serious  air  of  a  very 
learned  man,  "  is  a  most  interesting  subject.  It  is  a 
historical  subject — it  is  a  biblical  subject.  As  an 
article  of  food  it  is  mentioned  oftener  in  the  Bible 
than  any  other.  It  is  used  in  parable  and  to  point 
a  moral.  '  Ye  must  not  live  on  bread  alone.'  " 

From  the  suspicion  of  a  twinkle  in  the  eye  of  his 
listener  he  feared  he  had  not  quoted  correctly.  He 
knew  he  was  not  now  among  that  portion  of  his 
samples  with  which  he  was  most  familiar,  so  he 
hastened  back  to  the  historical  aspect  of  his  subject. 
Few  people  could  skate  over  thinner  ice  than  Rich- 
ard Yates,  but  his  natural  shrewdness  always  caused 
him  to  return  to  more  solid  footing. 

"  Now,  in  this  country  bread  has  gone  through 
three  distinct  stages,  and  although  I  am  a  strong 
believer  in  progress,  yet,  in  the  case  of  our  most  im- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  79 

portant  article  of  food,  I  hold  that  the  bread  of  to- 
day is  inferior  to  the  bread  our  mothers  used  to 
make,  or  perhaps,  I  should  say,  our  grandmothers. 
This  is,  unfortunately,  rapidly  becoming  the  age  of 
machinery — and  machinery,  while  it  may  be  quicker, 
is  certainly  not  so  thorough  as  old-fashioned  hand 
work.  There  is  a  new  writer  in  England  named 
Ruskin  who  is  very  bitter  against  machinery.  He 
would  like  to  see  it  abolished — at  least,  so  he  says. 
I  will  send  for  one  of  his  books,  and  show  it  to  you, 
if  you  will  let  me." 

"You,  in  New  York,  surely  do  not  call  the  author 
of  'Modern  Painters'  and  'The  Seven  Lamps  of 
Architecture '  a  new  man.  My  father  has  one  of  his 
books  which  must  be  nearly  twenty  years  old." 

This  was  the  longest  speech  Margaret  had  made 
to  him,  and,  as  he  said  afterward  to  the  professor  in 
describing  its  effects,  it  took  him  right  off  his  feet. 
He  admitted  to  the  professor,  but  not  to  the  girl, 
that  he  had  never  read  a  word  of  Ruskin  in  his  life. 
The  allusion  he  had  made  to  him  he  had  heard 
someone  else  use,  and  he  had  worked  it  into  an 
article  before  now  with  telling  effect.  "As  Mr. 
Ruskin  says  "  looked  well  in  a  newspaper  column, 
giving  an  air  of  erudition  and  research  to  it.  Mr. 
Yates,  however,  was  not  at  the  present  moment  pre- 
pared to  enter  into  a  discussion  on  either  the  age  or 
the  merits  of  the  English  writer. 

"  Ah,  well,"  he  said,  "  technically  speaking,  of 
course,  Ruskin  is  not  a  new  man.  What  I  meant 
was  that  he  is  looked  on — ah — in  New  York  as — 


8o          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

that  is — you  know — as  comparatively  new — com- 
paratively  new.  But,  as  I  was  saying  about  bread, 
the  old  log-house  era  of  bread,  as  I  might  call  it, 
produced  the  most  delicious  loaf  ever  made  in  this 
country.  It  was  the  salt-rising  kind,  and  was  baked 
in  a  round,  flat-bottomed  iron  kettle.  Did  you  ever 
see  the  baking  kettle  of  other  days?" 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Bartlett  has  one,  although  she  never 
uses  it  now.  It  was  placed  on  the  hot  embers,  was 
it  not?" 

"  Exactly,"  said  Yates,  noting  with  pleasure  that 
the  girl  was  thawing,  as  he  expressed  it  to  himself. 
"  The  hot  coals  were  drawn  out  and  the  kettle  placed 
upon  them.  When  the  lid  was  in  position,  hot  coals 
were  put  on  the  top  of  it.  The  bread  was  firm  and 
white  and  sweet  inside,  with  the  most  delicious 
golden  brown  crust  all  around.  Ah,  that  was 
bread  !  but  perhaps  I  appreciated  it  because  I  was 
always  hungry  in  those  days.  Then  came  the  al- 
leged improvement  of  the  tin  Dutch  oven.  That 
was  the  second  stage  in  the  evolution  of  bread  in 
this  country.  It  also  belonged  to  the  log-house  and 
open-fireplace  era.  Bread  baked  by  direct  heat  from 
the  fire  and  reflected  heat  from  the  polished  tin.  I 
think  our  present  cast-iron  stove  arrangement  is 
preferable  to  that,  although  not  up  to  the  old-time 
kettle." 

If  Margaret  had  been  a  reader  of  the  New  York 
Argus,  she  would  have  noticed  that  the  facts  set 
forth  by  her  visitor  had  already  appeared  in  that 
paper,  much  elaborated,  in  an  article  entitled  "  Our 


8i 

Daily  Bread."  In  the  pause  that  ensued  after  Yates 
had  finished  his  dissertation  on  the  staff  of  life  the 
stillness  was  broken  by  a  long  wailing  cry.  It  began 
with  one  continued,  sustained  note,  and  ended  with 
a  wail  half  a  tone  below  the  first.  The  girl  paid  no 
attention  to  it,  but  Yates  started  to  his  feet. 

"  In  the  name  of What's  that  ?  " 

Margaret  smiled,  but  before  she  could  answer  the 
stillness  was  again  broken  by  what  appeared  to  be  the 
more  distant  notes  of  a  bugle. 

"  The  first,"  she  said,  "  was  Kitty  Bartlett's  voice 
calling  the  men  home  from  the  field  for  dinner.  Mrs. 
Bartlett  is  a  very  good  housekeeper,  and  is  usually 
a  few  minutes  ahead  of  the  neighbours  with  the  meals. 
The  second  was  the  sound  of  a  horn  farther  up  the 
road.  It  is  what  you  would  deplore  as  the  age  of 
tin  applied  to  the  dinner  call,  just  as  your  tin  oven 
supplanted  the  better  bread  maker.  I  like  Kitty's 
call  much  better  than  the  sound  of  the  tin  horn.  It 
seems  to  me  more  musical,  although  it  appeared  to 
startle  you." 

"  Oh,  you  can  talk  !  "  cried  Yates  with  audacious 
admiration,  at  which  the  girl  coloured  slightly  and 
seemed  to  retire  within  herself  again.  "  And  you 
can  make  fun  of  people's  historical  lore,  too.  Which 
do  you  use — the  tin  horn  or  the  natural  voice?" 

"  Neither.  If  you  will  look  outside,  you  will  see 
a  flag  at  the  top  of  a  pole.  That  is  our  signal." 

It  flashed  across  the  mind  of  Yates  that  this  was 
intended  as  an  intimation  that  he  might  see  many 
things  outside  to  interest  him.  He  felt  that  his  visit 


82          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

had  not  been  at  all  the  brilliant  success  he  had  antici- 
pated. Of  course  the  quest  for  bread  had  been  merely 
an  excuse.  He  had  expected  to  be  able  to  efface 
the  unfavourable  impression  he  knew  he  had  made  by 
his  jaunty  conversation  on  the  Ridge  Road  the  day 
before,  and  he  realised  that  his  position  was  still  the 
same.  A  good  deal  of  Yates'  success  in  life  came 
from  the  fact  that  he  never  knew  when  he  was 
beaten.  He  did  not  admit  defeat  now,  but  he  saw 
he  had,  for  some  reason,  not  gained  any  advantage 
in  a  preliminary  skirmish.  He  concluded  it  would 
be  well  to  retire  in  good  order,  and  renew  the  con- 
test at  some  future  time.  He  was  so  unused  to  any- 
thing like  a  rebuff  that  all  his  fighting  qualities  were 
up  in  arms,  and  he  resolved  to  show  this  unim- 
pressionable girl  that  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  lightly 
valued. 

As  he  rose,  the  door  from  the  main  portion  of  the 
house  opened,  and  there  entered  a  woman  hardly 
yet  past  middle  age,  who  had  once  been  undoubt- 
edly handsome,  but  on  whose  worn  and  faded  face 
was  the  look  of  patient  weariness  which  so  often  is 
the  result  of  a  youth  spent  in  helping  a  husband  to 
overcome  the  stumpy  stubbornness  of  an  American 
bush  farm.  When  the  farm  is  conquered,  the  victor 
is  usually  vanquished.  It  needed  no  second  glance 
to  see  that  she  was  the  mother  from  whom  the 
daughter  had  inherited  her  good  looks.  Mrs.  How- 
ard did  not  appear  surprised  to  see  a  stranger  stand- 
ing there  ;  in  fact,  the  faculty  of  being  surprised  at 
anything  seemed  to  have  left  her.  Margaret  in- 


83 

troduced  them  quietly,  and  went  about  her  prepara- 
tion for  the  meal.  Yates  greeted  Mrs.  Howard  with 
effusion.  He  had  come,  he  said,  on  a  bread  mission. 
He  thought  he  knew  something  about  bread,  but 
he  now  learned  he  came  too  early  in  the  day.  He 
hoped  he  might  have  the  privilege  of  repeating  his 
visit. 

"  But  you  are  not  going  now  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Howard 
with  hospitable  anxiety. 

"  I  fear  I  have  already  stayed  too  long,"  answered 
Yates  lingeringly.  "  My  partner,  Professor  Ren- 
mark,  is  also  on  a  foraging  expedition  at  your  neigh- 
bours', the  Bartletts.  He  is  doubtless  back  in  camp 
long  ago,  and  will  be  expecting  me." 

"  No  fear  of  that.  Mrs.  Bartlett  would  never  let 
anyone  go  when  there  is  a  meal  on  the  way." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  giving  extra  trouble  by 
staying.  I  imagine  there  is  quite  enough  to  do  in 
every  farmhouse  without  entertaining  any  chance 
tramp  who  happens  along.  Don't  you  agree  with 
me  for  once,  Miss  Howard  ?  " 

Yates  was  reluctant  to  go,  and  yet  he  did  not  wish 
to  stay  unless  Margaret  added  her  invitation  to  her 
mother's.  He  felt  vaguely  that  his  reluctance  did 
him  credit,  and  that  he  was  improving.  He  could 
not  remember  a  time  when  he  had  not  taken  without 
question  whatever  the  gods  sent,  and  this  unaccus- 
tomed qualm  of  modesty  caused  him  to  suspect  that 
there  were  depths  in  his  nature  hitherto  unexplored. 
It  always  flatters  a  man  to  realise  that  he  is  deeper 
than  he  thought. 


84          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Mrs.  Howard  laughed  in  a  subdued  manner  be- 
cause Yates  likened  himself  to  a  tramp,  and  Margaret 
said  coldly  : 

"  Mother's  motto  is  that  one  more  or  less  never 
makes  any  difference." 

"And  what  is  your  motto,  Miss  Howard  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  Margaret  has  any,"  said  Mrs. 
Howard,  answering  for  her  daughter.  "  She  is  like 
her  father.  She  reads  a  great  deal  and  doesn't  talk 
much.  He  would  read  all  the  time,  if  he  did  not 
have  to  work.  I  see  Margaret  has  already  invited 
you,  for  she  has  put  an  extra  plate  on  the  table." 

"Ah,  then,"  said  Yates,  "  I  shall  have  much  pleas- 
ure in  accepting  both  the  verbal  and  the  crockery 
invitation.  I  am  sorry  for  the  professor  at  his  lonely 
meal  by  the  tent ;  for  he  is  a  martyr  to  duty,  and  I 
feel  sure  Mrs.  Bartlett  will  not  be  able  to  keep  him." 

Before  Mrs.  Howard  could  reply  there  floated  in 
to  them  from  the  outside,  where  Margaret  was,  a 
cheery  voice  which  Yates  had  no  difficulty  in  recog- 
nising as  belonging  to  Miss  Kitty  Bartlett. 

"  Hello,  Margaret !  "  she  said.     "  Is  he  here  ?  " 

The  reply  was  inaudible. 

"  Oh,  you  know  whom  I  mean.  That  conceited 
city  fellow." 

There  was  evidently  an  admonition  and  a  warn- 
ing. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  he  does.  I'll  tell  him  so  to 
his  face.  It  might  do  him  good." 

Next  moment  there  appeared  a  pretty  vision  in 
the  doorway.  On  the  fair  curls,  which  were  flying 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  85 

about  her  shoulders,  had  been  carelessly  placed  her 
brother's  straw  hat,  with  a  broad  and  torn  brim.  Her 
face  was  flushed  with  running  ;  and  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  a  very  lovely  girl  there  was  not  the  slightest 
doubt. 

"How  de  do?"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Howard,  and, 
nodding  to  Yates,  cried  :  "  I  knew  you  were  here, 
but  J  came  over  to  make  sure.  There  is  going  to 
be  war  in  our  house.  Mother's  made  a  prisoner 
of  the  professor  already,  but  he  doesn't  know  it. 
He  thinks  he's  going  back  to  the  tent,  and  she's 
packing  up  the  things  he  wanted,  and  doing  it  aw- 
fully slow,  till  I  get  back.  He  said  you  would  be 
sure  to  be  waiting  for  him  out  in  the  woods.  We 
both  told  him  there  was  no  fear  of  that.  You 
wouldn't  leave  a  place  where  there  was  good  cook- 
ing for  all  the  professors  in  the  world." 

"You  are  a  wonderful  judge  of  character,  Miss 
Bartlett,"  said  Yates,  somewhat  piqued  by  her 
frankness, 

"  Of  course  I  am.  The  professor  knows  ever  so 
much  more  than  you,  but  he  doesn't  know  when  he's 
well  off,  just  the  same.  You  do.  He's  a  quiet, 
stubborn  man." 

"  And  which  do  you  admire  the  most,  Miss 
Bartlett — a  quiet,  stubborn  man,  or  one  who  is  con- 
ceited ?  " 

Miss  Kitty  laughed  heartily,  without  the  slightest 
trace  of  embarrassment.  "  Detest,  you  mean.  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know.  Margaret,  which  is  the  most 
objectionable  ?  " 


86          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Margaret  looked  reproachfully  at  her  neighbour 
on  being  thus  suddenly  questioned,  but  said  noth- 
ing. 

Kitty,  laughing  again,  sprang  toward  her  friend, 
dabbed  a  little  kiss,  like  the  peck  of  a  bird,  on  each 
cheek,  cried :  "  Well,  I  must  be  off,  or  mother  will 
have  to  tie  up  the  professor  to  keep  him,"  and  was 
off  accordingly  with  the  speed  and  lightness  of  a 
young  fawn. 

"  Extraordinary  girl,"  remarked  Yates,  as  the 
flutter  of  curls  and  calico  dress  disappeared. 

"  She  is  a  good  girl,"  cried  Margaret  emphat- 
ically. 

"  Bless  me,  I  said  nothing  to  the  contrary.  But 
don't  you  think  she  is  somewhat  free  with  her 
opinions  about  other  people  ?  "  asked  Yates. 

"  She  did  not  know  that  you  were  within  hearing 
when  she  first  spoke,  and  after  that  she  brazened  it 
out.  That's  her  way.  But  she's  a  kind  girl  and 
good-hearted,  otherwise  she  would  not  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  come  over  here  merely  because  your 
friend  happened  to  be  surly." 

"  Oh,  Renny  is.  anything  but  surly,"  said  Yates, 
as  quick  to  defend  his  friend  as  she  was  to  stand 
up  for  hers.  "  As  I  was  saying  a  moment  ago,  he 
is  a  martyr  to  duty,  and  if  he  thought  I  was  at  the 
camp,  nothing  would  keep  him.  Now  he  will  have 
a  good  dinner  in  peace  when  he  knows  I  am  not 
waiting  for  him,  and  a  good  dinner  is  more  than  he 
will  get  when  I  take  to  the  cooking." 

By  this  time  the  silent  signal  on  the  flagpole  had 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  87 

done  its  work,  and  Margaret's  father  and  brother 
arrived  from  the  field.  They  put  their  broad  straw 
hats  on  the  roof  of  the  kitchen  veranda,  and,  taking 
water  in  a  tin  basin  from  the  rain  barrel,  placed  it  on 
a  bench  outside  and  proceeded  to  wash  vigorously, 
Mr.  Howard  was  much  more  interested  in  his 
guest  than  his  daughter  apparently  had  been. 
Yates  talked  glibly,  as  he  could  always  do  if  he  had 
a  sympathetic  audience,  and  he  showed  an  easy  famil- 
iarity with  the  great  people  of  this  earth  that  was 
fascinating  to  a  man  who  had  read  much  of  them, 
but  who  was,  in  a  measure,  locked  out  of  the 
bustling  world.  Yates  knew  many  of  the  generals 
in  the  late  war,  and  all  of  the  politicians.  Of  the 
latter  there  was  not  an  honest  man  among  them, 
according  to  the  reporter ;  of  the  former  there  were 
few  who  had  not  made  the  most  ghastly  mistakes. 
He  looked  on  the  world  as  a  vast  hoard  of  common- 
place people,  wherein  the  men  of  real  genius  were 
buried  out  of  sight,  if  there  were  any  men  of  genius, 
which  he  seemed  to  doubt,  and  those  on  the  top 
were  there  either  through  their  own  intrigues  or 
because  they  had  been  forced  up  by  circum- 
stances. His  opinions  sometimes  caused  a  look  of 
pain  to  cross  the  face  of  the  older  man,  who  was 
enthusiastic  in  his  quiet  way,  and  had  his  heroes. 
He  would  have  been  a  strong  Republican  if  he  had 
lived  in  the  States ;  and  he  had  watched  the  four- 
years'  struggle  through  the  papers,  with  keen  and 
absorbed  interest.  The  North  had  been  fighting,  in 
his  opinion,  for  the  great  and  undying  principle  of 


88          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

human  liberty,  and  had  deservedly  won.  Yates 
had  no  such  delusion.  It  was  a  politician's  war,  he 
said.  Principle  wasn't  in  it.  The  North  would 
have  been  quite  willing  to  let  slavery  stand  if  the 
situation  had  not  been  forced  by  the  firing  on  Fort 
Sumter.  Then  the  conduct  of  the  war  did  not  at 
all  meet  the  approval  of  Mr.  Yates. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  Grant  will  go 
down  into  history  as  a  great  general.  The  truth  is 
that  he  simply  knew  how  to  subtract.  That  is  all 
there  is  in  it.  He  had  the  additional  boon  of  an 
utter  lack  of  imagination.  We  had  many  generals 
who  were  greater  than  Grant,  but  they  were 
troubled  with  imaginations.  Imagination  will  ruin 
the  best  general  in  the  world.  Now,  take  yourself, 
for  example,  If  you  were  to  kill  a  man  uninten- 
tionally, your  conscience  would  trouble  you  all  the 
rest  of  your  life.  Think  how  you  would  feel,  then, 
if  you  were  to  cause  the  death  of  ten  thousand  men 
all  in  a  lump.  It  would  break  you  down.  The 
mistake  an  ordinary  man  makes  may  result  in  the 
loss  of  a  few  dollars,  which  can  be  replaced ;  but  if 
a  general  makes  a  mistake,  the  loss  can  never  be 
made  up,  for  his  mistakes  are  estimated  by  the  lives 
of  men.  He  say  '  Go '  when  he  should  have  said 
'  Come.'  He  says  '  Attack '  when  he  should  have 
said  '  Retreat.'  What  is  the  result  ?  Five,  ten,  or 
fifteen  thousand  men,  many  of  them  better  men 
than  he  is,  left  dead  on  the  field.  Grant  had  noth- 
ing of  this  feeling.  He  simply  knew  how  to  sub- 
tract, as  I  said  before.  It  is  like  this :  You  have 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  89 

fifty  thousand  men  and  I  have  twenty-five  thousand. 
When  I  kill  twenty-five  thousand  of  your  men  and 
you  kill  twenty-five  thousand  of  my  men,  you  have 
twenty-five  thousand  left  and  I  have  none.  You  are 
the  victor,  and  the  thoughtless  crowd  howls  about 
you,  but  that  does  not  make  you  out  the  greatest 
general  by  a  long  shot.  If  Lee  had  had  Grant's 
number,  and  Grant  had  Lee's,  the  result  would  have 
been  reversed.  Grant  set  himself  to  do  this  little 
sum  in  subtraction,  and  he  did  it — did  it  probably 
as  quickly  as  any  other  man  would  have  done  it, 
and  he  knew  that  when  it  was  done  the  war  would 
have  to  stop.  That's  all  there  was  to  it." 

The  older  man  shook  his  head.  "  I  doubt,"  he 
said,  "  if  history  will  take  your  view  either  of  the 
motives  of  those  in  power  or  of  the  way  the  war 
was  carried  on.  It  was  a  great  and  noble  struggle, 
heroically  fought  by  those  deluded  people  who  were 
in  the  wrong,  and  stubbornly  contested  at  immense 
self-sacrifice  by  those  who  were  in  the  right." 

"  What  a  pity  it  was,"  said  young  Howard  to  the 
newspaper  man,  with  a  rudeness  that  drew  a  frown 
from  his  father,  "  that  you  didn't  get  to  show  'em 
how  to  carry  on  the  war." 

"  Well,"  said  Yates,  with  a  humorous  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  "  I  flatter  myself  that  I  would  have  given 
them  some  valuable  pointers.  Still,  it  is  too  late  to 
bemoan  their  neglect  now." 

"  Oh,  you  may  have  a  chance  yet,"  continued  the 
unabashed  young  man.  "  They  say  the  Fenians  are 
coming  over  here  this  time  sure.  You  ought  to  vol- 


90          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

unteer  either  on  our  side  or  on  theirs,  and  show  how 
a  war  ought  to  be  carried  on." 

"  Oh,  there's  nothing  in  the  Fenian  scare !  They 
won't  venture  over.  They  fight  with  their  mouths. 
It's  the  safest  way." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  the  youth  significantly. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  the  boy  had  been  so  incon- 
siderate as  to  make  these  remarks  that  Yates  received 
a  cordial  invitation  from  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howard 
to  visit  the  farm  as  often  as  he  cared  to  do  so.  Of 
this  privilege  Yates  resolved  to  avail  himself,  but  he 
would  have  prized  it  more  if  Miss  Margaret  had 
added  her  word — which  she  did  not,  perhaps  because 
she  was  so  busy  looking  after  the  bread.  Yates 
knew,  however,  that  with  a  woman  apparent  progress 
is  rarely  synonymous  with  real  progress.  This  knowl- 
edge soothed  his  disappointment. 

As  he  walked  back  to  the  camp  he  reviewed  his 
own  feelings  with  something  like  astonisMment. 
The  march  of  events  was  rapid  even  for  him,  who 
was  not  slow  in  anything  he  undertook. 

"  It  is  the  result  of  leisure,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  It  is  the  first  breathing  time  I  have  had  for  fifteen 
years.  Not  two  days  of  my  vacation  gone,  and  here 
I  am  hopelessly  in  love  !  " 


CHAPTER  VII 

YATES  had  intended  to  call  at  the  Bartletts'  and 
escort  Renmark  back  to  the  woods ;  but  when  he 
got  outside  he  forgot  the  existence  of  the  professor, 
and  wandered  somewhat  aimlessly  up  the  side  road, 
switching  at  the  weeds  that  always  grow  in  great 
profusion  along  the  ditches  of  a  Canadian  country 
thoroughfare.  The  day  was  sunny  and  warm,  and 
as  Yates  wandered  on  in  the  direction  of  the  forest 
he  thought  of  many  things.  He  had  feared  that  he 
would  find  life  deadly  dull  so  far  from  New  York, 
without  even  the  consolation  of  a  morning  paper, 
the  feverish  reading  of  which  had  become  a  sort  of 
vice  with  him,  like  smoking.  He  had  imagined  that 
he  could  not  exist  without  his  morning  paper,  but 
he  now  realised  that  it  was  not  nearly  so  important 
a  factor  in  life  as  he  had  supposed ;  yet  he  sighed 
when  he  thought  of  it,  and  wished  he  had  one  with 
him  of  current  date.  He  could  now,  for  the  first 
time  in  many  years,  read  a  paper  without  that  vague 
fear  which  always  possessed  him  when  he  took  up 
an  opposition  sheet,  still  damp  from  the  press.  Be- 
fore he  could  enjoy  it  his  habit  was  to  scan  it  over 
rapidly  to  see  if  it  contained  any  item  of  news  which 

91 


92          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

he  himself  had  missed  the  previous  day.  The  im- 
pending "  scoop  "  hangs  over  the  head  of  the  news- 
paper man  like  the  sword  so  often  quoted.  Great  as 
the  joy  of  beating  the  opposition  press  is,  it  never 
takes  the  poignancy  of  the  sting  away  from  a  beat- 
ing received.  If  a  terrible  disaster  took  place,  and 
another  paper  gave  fuller  particulars  than  the  Argus 
Yates  found  himself  almost  wishing  the  accident 
had  not  occurred,  although  he  recognised  such  a 
wish  as  decidedly  unprofessional. 

Richard's  idea  of  the  correct  spirit  in  a  reporter 
was  exemplified  by  an  old  broken-down,  out-of-work 
morning  newspaper  man,  who  had  not  long  before 
committed  suicide  at  an  hour  in  the  day  too  late  for 
the  evening  papers  to  get  the  sensational  item.  He 
had  sent  in  to  the  paper  for  which  he  formerly 
worked  a  full  account  of  the  fatality,  accurately 
headed  and  sub-headed ;  and,  in  his  note  to  the  city 
editor,  he  told  why  he  had  chosen  the  hour  of  7  P.M. 
as  the  time  for  his  departure  from  an  unappreciative 
world. 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Yates  under  his  breath,  and  sud- 
denly pulling  himself  together,  "  I  mustn't  think  of 
New  York  if  I  intend  to  stay  here  for  a  couple  of 
weeks.  I'll  be  city-sick  the  first  thing  I  know, 
and  then  I'll  make  a  break  for  the  metropolis.  This 
will  never  do.  The  air  here  is  enchanting,  it  fills  a 
man  with  new  life.  This  is  the  spot  for  me,  and  I'll 
stick  to  it  till  I'm  right  again.  Hang  New  York ! 
But  I  mustn't  think  of  Broadway  or  I'm  done  for." 

He  came  to  the  spot  in  the  road  where  he  could 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  93 

see  the  white  side  of  the  tent  under  the  dark  trees, 
and  climbed  up  on  the  rail  fence,  sitting  there  for  a 
few  moments.  The  occasional  call  of  a  quail  from  a 
neighbouring  field  was  the  only  sound  that  broke 
the  intense  stillness.  The  warm  smell  of  spring  was 
in  the  air.  The  buds  had  but  recently  broken,  and 
the  woods,  intensely  green,  had  a  look  of  newness 
and  freshness  that  was  comforting  to  the  eye  and 
grateful  to  the  other  senses.  The  world  seemed  to 
be  but  lately  made.  The  young  man  breathed 
deeply  of  the  vivifying  air,  and  said :  "  No,  there's 
nothing  the  matter  with  this  place,  Dick.  New 
York's  a  fool  to  it."  Then,  with  a  sigh,  he  added  : 
"  If  I  can  stand  it  for  two  weeks.  I  wonder  how  the 
boys  are  getting  on  without  me." 

In  spite  of  himself  his  thoughts  kept  drifting  back 
to  the  great  city,  although  he  told  himself  that  it 
wouldn't  do.  He  gazed  at  the  peaceful,  spreading 
landscape,  but  his  eyes  were  vacant  and  he  saw  noth- 
ing. The  roar  of  the  streets  was  in  his  ears.  Sud- 
denly his  reverie  was  broken  by  a  voice  from  the 
forest. 

"  I  say,  Yates,  where's  the  bread  ?  " 

Yates  looked  quickly  round,  somewhat  startled, 
and  saw  the  professor  coming  toward  him. 

"  The  bread  ?  I  forgot  all  about  it.  No  ;  I  didn't 
either.  They  were  baking — that  was  it.  I  am  to 
go  for  it  later  in  the  day.  What  loot  did  you  rake 
in,  professor?" 

"  Vegetables  mostly." 

"  That's  all  right.     Have  a  good  dinner  ?  " 


94          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Excellent/' 

"  So  did  I.  Renny,  when  you  interrupted  me,  I 
was  just  counting  the  farmhouses  in  sight.  What 
do  you  say  to  boarding  round  among  them  ?  You 
are  a  schoolmaster,  and  ought  to  know  all  about  it. 
Isn't  education  in  this  country  encouraged  by  pay- 
ing the  teacher  as  little  as  possible,  and  letting  him 
take  it  out  in  eating  his  way  from  one  house  to  an- 
other ?  Ever  board  round,  Renny  ?  " 

"  Never.  If  the  custom  once  existed  in  Canada, 
it  is  out  of  date  now." 

"  That's  a  pity.  I  hate  to  face  my  own  cooking, 
Renmark.  We  become  less  brave  as  we  grow  older. 
By  the  way,  how  is  old  man  Bartlett  ?  As  well  as 
could  be  expected?" 

"  He  seemed  much  as  usual.  Mrs.  Bartlett  has 
sent  out  two  chairs  to  the  tent ;  she  fears  we  will  get 
rheumatism  if  we  sit  on  the  ground." 

"  She  is  a  kind  woman.  Renny,  and  a  thought- 
ful. And  that  reminds  me:  I  have  a  hammock 
somewhere  among  my  belongings.  I  will  swing 
it  up.  Chairs  are  comfortable,  but  a  hammock  is 
luxury." 

Yates  slid  down  from  the  fence  top,  and  together 
the  two  men  walked  to  the  tent.  The  hammock  was 
unfurled  and  slung  between  two  trees.  Yates  tested 
it  cautiously,  and  finally  trusted  himself  to  its  rest- 
ful folds  of  network.  He  was  swaying  indolently 
several  feet  from  the  ground  when  he  said  to  Ren- 
mark  : 

"  I  call  this  paradise — paradise  regained ;  but  it 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  95 

be  paradise  lost  next  month.  Now,  professor,  I 
am  ready  to  do  the  cooking,  but  I  have  a  fancy  for 
doing  it  by  proxy.  The  general  directs,  and  the 
useful  prosaic  man  executes.  Where  are  your 
vegetables,  Renny  ?  Potatoes  and  carrots,  eh  ? 
Very  good.  Now,  you  may  wash  them,  Renny ; 
but  first  you  must  bring  some  water  from  the 
spring." 

The  professor  was  a  patient  man,  and  he  obeyed. 
Yates  continued  to  swing  in  the  hammock,  alternat- 
ing directions  with  rhapsodies  on  the  beauties  of  the 
day  and  the  stillness  of  the  woods.  Renmark  said 
but  little,  and  attended  strictly  to  the  business  in 
hand.  The  vegetables  finished,  he  took  a  book  from 
his  valise,  tilted  a  chair  back  against  a  tree,  and 
began  to  read. 

"  I'm  depending  upon  you  for  the  bread,"  he  said 
to  the  drowsy  man  in  the  hammock. 

"  Right  you  are,  Renny.  Your  confidence  is  not 
misplaced.  I  shall  presently  journey  down  into  the 
realms  of  civilisation,  and  fill  the  long-felt  want.  I 
shall  go  to  the  Howards  by  way  of  the  Bartlett 
homestead,  but  I  warn  you  that  if  there  is  a  meal  on, 
at  either  place,  you  will  not  have  me  here  to  test 
your  first  efforts  at  cooking.  So  you  may  have  to 
wait  until  breakfast  for  my  opinion." 

Yates  extricated  himself  slowly  and  reluctantly 
from  the  hammock,  and  looked  regretfully  at  it  when 
he  stood  once  more  on  the  ground. 

"  This  mad  struggle  for  bread,  professor,  is  the 
curse  of  life  here  below.  It  is  what  we  are  all  after. 


96          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

If  it  were  not  for  the  necessity  of  bread  and  clothing, 
what  a  good  time  a  fellow  might  have  !  Well,  my 
blessing,  Renny.  Good-bye." 

Yates  strolled  slowly  through  the  woods,  until  he 
came  to  the  beginning  of  a  lane  which  led  to  the 
Bartlett  homestead.  He  saw  the  farmer  and  his  son 
at  work  in  the  back  fields.  From  between  the  dis- 
tant house  and  barn  there  arose,  straight  up  into  the 
still  air,  a  blue  column  of  smoke,  which,  reaching  a 
certain  height,  spread  out  like  a  thin,  hazy  cloud 
above  the  dwelling.  At  first  Yates  thought  that 
some  of  the  outhouses  were  on  fire,  and  he  quickened 
his  pace  to  a  run  ;  but  a  moment's  reflection  showed 
him  that  the  column  was  plainly  visible  to  the  work- 
ers in  the  fields,  and  that  if  anything  were  wrong 
they  would  not  continue  placidly  at  their  labour. 
When  he  had  walked  the  long  length  of  the  lane,  and 
had  safely  rounded  the  corner  of  the  barn,  he  saw, 
in  the  open  space  between  that  building  and  the 
house,  a  huge  camp-fire  blazing.  From  a  pole,  up- 
held by  two  crotched  supports,  hung  a  big  iron  ket- 
tle over  the  flames.  The  cauldron  was  full  nearly  to 
the  brim,  and  the  steam  was  already  beginning  to 
rise  from  its  surface,  although  the  fire  had  evidently 
been  but  recently  kindled.  The  smoke  was  not  now 
so  voluminous,  but  Kitty  Bartlett  stood  there  with 
a  big-brimmed  straw  hat  in  her  hands,  fanning  it 
away  from  her  face,  while  the  hat  at  the  same  time 
protected  her  rosy  countenance  from  the  heat.  She 
plainly  was  not  prepared  to  receive  visitors,  and  she 
started  when  the  young  man  addressed  her,  flushing 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  97 

still  more  deeply,  apparently  annoyed  at  his  unwel- 
come appearance. 

"  Good-afternoon,"  he  said  cordially.  "  Preparing 
for  washing  ?  I  thought  Monday  was  washing-day." 

"  It  is." 

"  Then  I  have  not  been  misinformed.  And  you 
are  not  preparing  for  washing  ?  " 

"  We  are." 

Yates  laughed  so  heartily  that  Kitty,  in  spite  of 
herself,  had  to  permit  a  smile  to  brighten  her  own 
features.  She  always  found  it  difficult  to  remain 
solemn  for  any  length  of  time. 

"  This  is  obviously  a  conundrum,"  said  Yates, 
ticking  off  the  items  on  his  four  ringers.  "  First, 
Monday  is  washing-day.  Second,  this  is  not  Mon- 
day. Third,  neither  is  to-morrow.  Fourth,  we  are 
preparing  for  washing.  I  give  it  up,  Miss  Bartlett. 
Please  tell  me  the  answer." 

"  The  answer  is  that  I  am  making  soap  ;  soft  soap, 
if  you  know  what  that  is." 

"  Practically,  I  don't  know  what  it  is  ;  but  I  have 
heard  the  term  used  in  a  political  connection.  In 
the  States  we  say  that  if  a  man  is  very  diplomatic 
he  uses  soft  soap,  so  I  suppose  it  has  lubricating 
qualities  Sam  Slick  used  the  term  '  soft  sawder ' 
in  the  same  way ;  but  what  sawder  is,  soft  or  hard, 
I  haven't  the  slightest  idea." 

"  I  thought  you  knew  everything,  Mr.  Yates." 

"  Me  ?  Bless  you,  no.  I'm  an  humble  gleaner  in 
the  field  of  knowledge.  That's  why  I  brought  a 
Toronto  professor  with  me.  I  want  to  learn 
7 


98          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

something.  Won't  you  teach  me  how  to  make 
soap?" 

"  I'm  very  busy  just  now.  When  I  said  that  we 
were  preparing  for  washing,  I  should  perhaps  have 
told  you  there  was  something  else  we  are  not  pre- 
pared for  to-day." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  A  visitor." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Bartlett,  you  are  a  little  hard  on 
me.  I'm  not  a  visitor.  I'm  a  friend  of  the  family. 
I  want  to  help.  You  will  find  me  a  most  diligent 
student.  Won't  you  give  me  a  chance  ?  " 

"  All  the  hard  work's  done.  But  perhaps  you 
knew  that  before  you  came." 

Yates  looked  at  her  reproachfully,  and  sighed 
deeply. 

"  That's  what  it  is  to  be  a  misunderstood  man. 
So  you  think,  among  other  bad  qualities,  I  have  the 
habit  of  shirking  work  ?  Let  me  tell  you,  Miss  Bart- 
lett, that  the  reason  I  am  here  is  because  I  have 
worked  too  hard.  Now,  confess  that  you  are  sorry 
for  what  you  said — trampling  on  an  already  down- 
trodden man." 

Kitty  laughed  merrily  at  this,  and  Yates  laughed 
also,  for  his  sense  of  comradeship  was  strong. 

"  You  don't  look  as  if  you  had  ever  worked  in 
your  life ;  I  don't  believe  you  know  what  work  is." 

"  But  there  are  different  kinds  of  labour.  Don't 
you  call  writing  work  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  That's  just  where  you're  mistaken.    It  is,  and 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS  99 

hard  work,  too.  I'll  tell  you  about  the  newspaper 
business  if  you'll  tell  me  about  soap-making.  Fair 
exchange.  I  wish  }ou  would  take  me  as  a  pupil, 
Miss  Bartlett ;  you  would  find  me  quick  at  picking 
up  things." 

"  Well,  then,  pick  up  that  pail  and  draw  a  pailful 
of  water." 

"I'll  do  it,"  cried  Yates  sternly;  "I'll  do  it, 
though  it  blast  me." 

Yates  selected  a  wooden  pail,  painted  blue  on 
the  outside,  with  a  red  stripe  near  the  top  for  orna- 
ment, and  cream-coloured  inside.  It  was  called  a 
"  patent-pail  "  in  those  days,  as  it  was  a  comparatively 
recent  innovation,  being  cheaper,  lighter,  and 
stronger  than  the  tin  pail  which  it  was  rapidly  re- 
placing. At  the  well  was  a  stout  pole,  pinned 
through  the  centre  to  an  upright  support  on  which 
it  swung,  like  the  walking-beam  of  an  engine.  The 
thick  end,  which  rested  on  the  ground,  was  loaded 
with  heavy  stones  ;  while  from  the  thin  end,  high  in 
the  air,  there  dangled  over  the  mouth  of  the  well  a 
slim  pole  with  a  hook.  This  hook  was  ingeniously 
furnished  with  a  spring  of  hickory,  which  snapped 
when  the  handle  of  the  pail  was  placed  on  the  hook, 
and  prevented  the  "  patent  "  utensil  from  slipping 
off  when  it  was  lowered  to  the  surface  of  the  water. 
Yates  speedily  recognised  the  usefulness  of  this  con- 
trivance, for  he  found  that  the  filling  of  a  wooden 
pail  in  a  deep  well  was  not  the  simple  affair  it 
looked.  The  bucket  bobbed  about  on  the  surface 
of  the  water.  Once  he  forgot  the  necessity  of  keep- 


ioo        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ing  a  stout  grip  on  the  pole,  and  the  next  instant 
the  pail  came  up  to  the  sunlight  with  a  suddenness 
that  was  terrifying.  Only  an  equally  sudden  back- 
ward jump  on  Yates'  part  saved  his  head.  Miss 
Bartlett  was  pleased  to  look  upon  this  incident  as 
funny.  Yates  was  so  startled  by  the  unexpected 
revolt  of  the  pail  that  his  native  courtesy  did  not 
get  a  chance  to  prevent  Kitty  from  drawing  up  the 
water  herself.  She  lowered  the  vessel,  pulling  down 
the  pole  in  a  hand-over-hand  manner  that  the  young 
man  thought  decidedly  fetching,  and  then  she  gave 
an  almost  imperceptible  twist  to  the  arrangement 
that  resulted  in  instant  success.  The  next  thing 
Yates  knew  the  full  pail  was  resting  on  the  well 
curb,  and  the  hickory  spring  had  given  the  click  that 
released  the  handle. 

"  There,"  said  Kitty,  suppressing  her  merriment, 
"  that's  how  it's  done." 

"  I  see  the  result,  Miss  Bartlett ;  but  I'm  not  sure 
I  can  do  the  trick.  These  things  are  not  so  simple  as 
they  seem.  What  is  the  next  step  ?  " 

"  Pour  the  water  into  the  leach." 

"  Into  the  what  ?  " 

"  Into  the  leach,  I  said.     Where  else  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  up  a  tree  again.  I  see  I  don't  even 
know  the  A  B  C  of  this  business.  In  the  old  days 
the  leech  was  a  physician.  You  don't  mean  I'm  to 
drown  a  doctor  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  leach,"  said  Kitty,  pointing  to  a 
large,  yellowish,  upright  wooden  cylinder,  which 
rested  on  some  slanting  boards,  down  the  surface  of 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         101 

which  ran  a  brownish  liquid  that  dripped  into  a 
trough. 

As  Yates  stood  on  a  bench  with  the  pail  in  his 
hand  he  saw  that  the  cylinder  was  filled  nearly  to  the 
top  with  sodden  wood  ashes.  He  poured  in  the 
water,  and  it  sank  quickly  out  of  sight. 

"  So  this  is  part  of  the  soap-making  equipment  ?  " 
he  said,  stepping  down  ;  "  I  thought  the  iron  kettle 
over  the  fire  was  the  whole  factory.  Tell  me  about 
the  leach." 

"That  is  where  the  hard  work  of  soap-making 
comes  in,"  said  Kitty,  stirring  the  contents  of  the 
iron  kettle  with  a  long  stick.  "  Keeping  the  leach 
supplied  with  water  at  first  is  no  fun,  for  then  the 
ashes  are  dry.  If  you  put  in  five  more  pails  of 
water,  I  will  tell  you  about  it." 

"  Right !  "  cried  Yates,  pleased  to  see  that  the 
girl's  first  objection  to  his  presence  was  fast  disap- 
pearing. "  Now  you'll  understand  how  energetic  I 
am.  I'm  a  handy  man  about  a  place." 

When  he  had  completed  his  task,  she  was  still 
stirring  the  thickening  liquid  in  the  caldron,  guard- 
ing her  face  from  the  flames  with  her  big  straw  hat. 
Her  clustering,  tangled  fair  hair  was  down  about  her 
shoulders ;  and  Yates,  as  he  put  the  pail  in  its  place, 
when  it  had  been  emptied  the  fifth  time,  thought 
she  formed  a  very  pretty  picture  standing  there  by 
the  fire,  even  if  she  were  making  soft  soap. 

"The  wicked  genii  has  finished  the  task  set  him 
by  the  fairy  princess.  Now  for  the  reward.  I  want 
all  the  particulars  about  the  leach.  In  the  first 


102         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

place,  where  do  you  get  this  huge  wooden  cylinder 
that  I  have,  without  apparent  effect,  been  pouring 
water  into?  Is  it  manufactured  or  natural  ?  " 

"  Both.     It  is  a  section  of  the  buttonwood  tree." 

"  Buttonwood  ?  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  of 
that.  I  know  the  beech  and  the  maple,  and  some 
kinds  of  oak,  but  there  my  wood  lore  ends.  Why 
the  buttonwood  ?  " 

"  The  buttonwood  happens  to  be  exactly  suited  to 
the  purpose.  It  is  a  tree  that  is  very  fine  to  look  at. 
It  seems  all  right,  but  it  generally  isn't.  It  is  hollow 
or  rotten  within,  and,  even  when  sound,  the  timber 
made  from  it  is  of  little  value,  as  it  doesn't  last.  Yet 
you  can't  tell  until  you  begin  to  chop  whether  it  is 
of  any  use  or  not."  Kitty  shot  a  quick  glance  at  the 
young  man,  who  was  sitting  on  a  log  watching  her. 

"  Go  on,  Miss  Bartlett ;  I  see  what  you  mean. 
There  are  men  like  the  buttonwood  tree.  The  woods 
are  full  of  them.  I've  met  lots  of  that  kind,  fair  to 
look  upon,  but  hollow.  Of  course  you  don't  mean 
anything  personal ;  for  you  must  have  seen  my  worth 
by  the  way  I  stuck  to  the  water  hauling.  But  go 
on." 

"  Dear  me,  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing ;  but 

a  guilty  conscience,  they  say "  said  Kitty,  with 

a  giggle. 

"  Of  course  they  say  ;  but  it's  wrong,  like  most 
other  things  they  say.  It's  the  man  with  the  guilty 
conscience  who  looks  you  straight  in  the  eye.  Now 
that  the  buttonwood  is  chopped  down,  what's  the 
next  thing  to  be  done  ?  " 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         103 

"  It  is  sawn  off  at  the  proper  length,  square  at 
one  end  and  slanting  at  the  other." 
"  Why  slanting  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  see,  the  foundation  of  plank  on  which 
it  rests  is  inclined,  so  the  end  of  the  leach  that  is 
down  must  be  slantingly  cut,  otherwise  it  would  not 
stand  perpendicularly.  It  would  topple  over  in  the 
first  windstorm." 

"  I  see,  I  see.     Then  they  haul  it  in  and  set  it  up  ?  " 
"  Oh,  dear  no  ;  not  yet.     They  build  a  fire  in  it 
when  it  gets  dry  enough." 

"  Really  ?  I  think  I  understand  the  comprehen- 
sive scheme,  but  I  slip  up  on  the  details,  as  when  I 
tried  to  submerge  that  wooden  pail.  What's  the 
fire  for?" 

"  To  burn  out  what  remains  of  the  soft  inside 

wood,  so  as  to  leave  only  the  hard  outside  shell. 

Then  the  charring  of  the  inner  surface  is  supposed 

to  make  the  leach  better — more  water-tight,  perhaps." 

"  Quite  so.     Then  it  is  hauled  in  and  set  up  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  gradually  filled  with  ashes.     When  it 

is  full,  we  pour  the  water  in  it,  and  catch  the  lye  as 

it  drips  out.     This  is  put  in  the  caldron  with  grease, 

pigskins,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  and  when  it  boils 

long  enough,  the  result  is  soft  soap." 

"  And  if  you  boil  it  too  long,  what  is  the  result  ?" 
"  Hard  soap,  I  suppose.     I  never  boil  it  too  long." 
The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  a  hiss- 
ing in  the  fire,  caused  by  the  tumultuous  boiling 
over  of  the  soap.     Kitty  hurriedly  threw  in  a  basin 
of  cold  lye,  and  stirred  the  mixture  vigorously. 


104         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  You  see,"  she  said  reproachfully,  "  the  result  of 
keeping  me  talking  nonsense  to  you.  Now  you 
will  have  to  make  up  for  it  by  bringing  in  some 
wood  and  putting  more  water  into  the  leach." 

"  With  the  utmost  pleasure,"  cried  Yates,  spring, 
ing  to  his  feet.  "  It  is  a  delight  to  atone  for  a  fault 
by  obeying  your  commands." 

The  girl  laughed.     "Buttonwood,"  she  said. 

Before  Yates  could  think  of  anything  to  say 
in  reply  Mrs.  Bartlett  appeared  at  the  back  door. 

"  How  is  the  soap  getting  on,  Kitty?"  she  asked. 
"  Why,  Mr.  Yates,  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  Am  I  here  ?  I  should  say  I  was.  Very  much 
here.  I'm  the  hired  man.  I'm  the  hewer  of  wood 
and  the  hauler  of  water,  or,  to  speak  more  cor- 
rectly, I'm  the  hauler  of  both.  And  besides,  I've 
been  learning  how  to  make  soap,  Mrs.  Bartlett." 

"  Well,  it  won't  hurt  you  to  know  how." 

"  You  bet  it  won't.  When  I  get  back  to  New 
York,  the  first  thing  I  shall  do  will  be  to  chop 
down  a  buttonwood  tree  in  the  park,  if  I  can  find 
one,  and  set  up  a  leach  for  myself.  Lye  comes 
useful  in  running  a  paper." 

Mrs.  Bartlett's  eyes  twinkled,  for,  although  she 
did  not  quite  understand  his  nonsense,  she  knew  it 
was  nonsense,  and  she  had  a  liking  for  frivolous 
persons,  her  own  husband  being  so  sombre-minded. 

"  Tea  is  ready,"  she  said.  "  Of  course  you  will 
stay,  Mr.  Yates." 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Bartlett,  I  cannot  conscientiously 
do  so.  I  haven't  earned  a  meal  since  the  last  one. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          105 

No ;  my  conscience  won't  let  me  accept,  but  thank 
you  all  the  same." 

"  Nonsense ;  my  conscience  won't  let  you  go 
away  hungry.  If  nobody  were  to  eat  but  those 
who  earn  their  victuals,  there  would  be  more 
starving  people  in  the  world  than  there  are.  Of 
course  you'll  stay." 

"  Now,  that's  what  I  like,  Mrs.  Bartlett.  I  like 
to  have  a  chance  of  refusing  an  invitation  I  yearn 
for,  and  then  be  forced  to  accept.  That's  true  hos- 
pitality." Then  in  a  whisper  he  added  to  Kitty : 
"If  you  dare  to  say  ' buttonwood,'  Miss  Bartlett, 
you  and  I  will  quarrel." 

But  Kitty  said  nothing,  now  that  her  mother  had 
appeared  on  the  scene,  but  industriously  stirred  the 
contents  of  the  iron  kettle. 

"  Kitty,"  said  the  mother,  "  you  call  the  men  to 
supper." 

"  I  can't  leave  this,"  said  Kitty,  flushing  ;  "  it  will 
boil  over.  You  call,  mother." 

So  Mrs.  Bartlett  held  her  open  palms  on  each  side 
of  her  mouth,  and  gave  the  long  wailing  cry,  which 
was  faintly  answered  from  the  fields,  and  Yates, 
who  knew  a  thing  or  two,  noted  with  secret  satis- 
faction that  Kitty  had  refused  doubtless  because  he 
was  there. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"  I  TELL  you  what  it  is,  Renny,"  said  Yates,  a 
few  days  after  the  soap  episode,  as  he  swung  in  his 
hammock  at  the  camp,  "  I'm  learning  something 
new  every  day." 

"  Not  really  ?  "  asked  the  professor  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  really.  I  knew  it  would  astonish  you. 
My  chief  pleasure  in  life,  professor,  is  the  surprising 
of  you.  I  sometimes  wonder  why  it  delights  me  ; 
it  is  so  easily  done." 

"  Never  mind  about  that.  What  have  you  been 
learning?" 

"  Wisdom,  my  boy  ;  wisdom  in  solid  chunks.  In 
the  first  place,  I  am  learning  to  admire  the  resource- 
fulness of  these  people  around  us.  Practically,  they 
make  everything  they  need.  They  are  the  most 
self-helping  people  that  I  was  ever  thrown  among. 
I  look  upon  theirs  as  the  ideal  life." 

"  I  think  you  said  something  like  that  when  we 
first  came  here." 

"  I  said  that,  you  ass,  about  camping  out.     I  am 

talking  now   about    farm    life.     Farmers   eliminate 

the  middleman  pretty  effectually,  and  that  in  itself 

is   going  a  long  way  toward   complete  happiness. 

1 06 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          107 

Take  the  making  of  soap,  that  I  told  you  about ; 
there  you  have  it,  cheap  and  good.  When  you've 
made  it,  you  know  what  is  in  it,  and  I'll  be  hanged 
if  you  do  when  you  pay  a  big  price  for  it  in  New 
York.  Here  they  make  pretty  nearly  everything 
they  need  except  the  waggon  and  the  crockery ;  and 
I'm  not  sure  but  they  made  them  a  few  years  back. 
Now,  when  a  man  with  a  good  sharp  axe  and  a  jack- 
knife  can  do  anything  from  building  his  house  to 
whittling  out  a  chair,  he's  the  most  independent 
man  on  earth.  Nobody  lives  better  than  these 
people  do.  Everything  is  fresh,  sweet,  and  good. 
Perhaps  the  country  air  helps ;  but  it  seems  to  me  I 
never  tasted  such  meals  as  Mrs.  Bartlett,  for  in- 
stance, gets  up.  They  buy  nothing  at  the  stores 
except  the  tea,  and  I  confess  I  prefer  milk  myself. 
My  tastes  were  always  simple." 

"  And  what  is  the  deduction  ?  " 

"  Why,  that  this  is  the  proper  way  to  live.  Old 
Hiram  has  an  anvil  and  an  amateur  forge.  He  can 
tinker  up  almost  anything,  and  that  eliminates  the 
blacksmith.  Howard  has  a  bench,  saws,  hammers, 
and  other  tools,  and  that  eliminates  the  carpenter. 
The  women  eliminate  the  baker,  the  soap-boiler, 
and  a  lot  of  other  parasites.  Now,  when  you  have 
eliminated  all  the  middlemen,  then  comes  independ- 
ence, and  consequently  complete  happiness.  You 
can't  keep  happiness  away  with  a  shotgun  then." 

"  But  what  is  to  become  of  the  blacksmith,  the 
carpenter,  and  all  the  rest  ?  " 

"  Let  them  take  up  land  and  be  happy  too ;  there's 


io8        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

plenty  of  land.  The  land  is  waiting  for  them. 
Then  look  how  the  master  is  eliminated,  '.'hat's 
the  most  beautiful  riddance  of  all.  Even  the  car- 
penter and  blacksmith  usually  have  to  work  under 
a  boss ;  and  if  not,  they  have  to  depend  on  the  men 
who  employ  them.  The  farmer  has  to  please  no- 
body but  himself.  That  adds  to  his  independence. 
That's  why  old  Hiram  is  ready  to  fight  the  first 
comer  on  the  slightest  provocation.  He  doesn't 
care  whom  he  offends,  so  long  as  it  isn't  his  wife. 
These  people  know  how  to  make  what  they  want, 
and  what  they  can't  make  they  do  without.  That's 
the  way  to  form  a  great  nation.  You  raise,  in  this 
manner,  a  self-sustaining,  resolute,  unconquerable 
people.  The  reason  the  North  conquered  the  South 
was  because  we  drew  our  armies  mostly  from  the 
self-reliant  farming  class,  while  we  had  to  fight 
a  people  accustomed  for  generations  to  having 
things  done  for  them." 

"  Why  don't  you  buy  a  farm,  Yates?  " 
"  Several  reasons.  I  am  spoiled  for  the  life  here. 
I  am  like  the  drunkard  who  admires  a  temperate  life, 
yet  can't  pass  a  ginshop.  The  city  virus  is  in  my 
blood.  And  then,  perhaps,  after  all,  I  am  not  quite 
satisfied  with  the  tendency  of  farm  life ;  it  is  unfortu- 
nately in  a  transition  state.  It  is  at  the  frame-house 
stage,  and  will  soon  blossom  into  the  red-brick  stage. 
The  log-house  era  is  what  I  yearn  for.  Then  every, 
thing  a  person  needed  was  made  on  the  farm.  When 
the  brick-house  era  sets  in,  the  middleman  will  be 
rampant.  I  saw  the  other  day  at  the  Howards'  a  set 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          109 

of  ancient  stones  that  interested  me  as  much  as  an 
Assyrian  marble  would  interest  you.  They  were 
old,  home-made  millstones,  and  they  have  not  been 
used  since  the  frame-house  was  built.  The  grist 
mill  at  the  village  put  them  out  of  date.  And  just 
here,  notice  the  subtlety  of  the  crafty  middleman. 
The  farmer  takes  his  grist  to  the  mill,  and  the  miller 
does  not  charge  him  cash  for  grinding  it.  He  takes 
toll  out  of  the  bags,  and  the  farmer  has  a  vague  idea 
that  he  gets  his  grinding  for  almost  nothing.  The 
old  way  was  the  best,  Renny,  my  boy.  The  farmer's 
son  won't  be  as  happy  in  the  brick-house  which  the 
mason  will  build  for  him  as  his  grandfather  was  in 
the  log-house  he  built  for  himself.  And  fools  call 
this  change  the  advance  of  civilisation." 

"  There  is  something  to  be  said  for  the  old  order 
of  things,"  admitted  Renmark.  "  If  a  person  could 
unite  the  advantages  of  what  we  call  civilisation  with 
the  advantages  of  a  pastoral  life,  he  would  inaugurate 
a  condition  of  things  that  would  be  truly  idyllic." 

"  That's  so,  Renmark,  that's  so !  "  cried  Yates 
enthusiastically.  "  A  brownstone  mansion  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  and  a  log  hut  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Su- 
perior !  That  would  suit  me  down  to  the  ground. 
Spend  half  the  year  in  each  place." 

"Yes,"  said  the  professor  meditatively ;  "a  log  hut 
on  the  rocks  and  under  the  trees,  with  the  lake  in 
front,  would  be  very  nice  if  the  hut  had  a  good 
library  attached." 

"  And  a  daily  paper.     Don't  forget  the  press." 

"  No.     I   draw  the  line  there.     The  daily  paper 


I  io        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

would  mean  the  daily  steamer  or  the  daily  train. 
The  one  would  frighten  away  the  fish,  and  the  other 
would  disturb  the  stillness  with  its  whistle." 

Yates  sighed.  "  I  forgot  about  the  drawbacks," 
he  said.  "  That's  the  trouble  with  civilisation.  You 
can't  have  the  things  you  want  without  bringing  in 
their  trail  so  many  things  you  don't  want.  I  shall 
have  to  give  up  the  daily  paper." 

"Then  there  is  another  objection,  worse  than 
either  steamer  or  train." 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"  The  daily  paper  itself." 

Yates  sat  up  indignantly. 

"  Renmark  ! "  he  cried,  "  that's  blasphemy.  For 
Heaven's  sake,  man,  hold  something  sacred.  If  you 
don't  respect  the  press,  what  do  you  respect  ?  Not 
my  most  cherished  feelings,  at  any  rate,  or  you 
wouldn't  talk  in  that  flippant  manner.  If  you  speak 
kindly  of  my  daily  paper,  I'll  tolerate  your  library." 

"And  that  reminds  me:  Have  you  brought  any 
books  with  you,  Yates  ?  I  have  gone  through  most 
of  mine  already,  although  many  of  them  will  bear 
going  over  again  ;  still,  I  have  so  much  time  on  my 
hands  that  I  think  I  may  indulge  in  a  little  general 
reading.  When  you  wrote  asking  me  to  meet  you 
in  Buffalo,  I  thought  you  perhaps  intended  to  tramp 
through  the  country,  so  I  did  not  bring  as  many 
books  with  me  as  I  should  have  done  if  I  had  known 
you  were  going  to  camp  out." 

Yates  sprang  from  the  hammock. 

"Books?     Well,  I  should  say  so !     Perhaps  you 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         in 

thrnk  I  don't  read  anything  but  the  daily  papers. 
I'd  have  you  know  that  I  am  something  of  a 
reader  myself.  You  mustn't  imagine  you  monopolise 
all  the  culture  in  the  township,  professor." 

The  young  man  went  into  the  tent,  and  shortly 
returned  with  an  armful  of  yellow-covered,  paper- 
bound  small  volumes,  which  he  flung  in  profusion  at 
the  feet  of  the  man  from  Toronto.  They  were 
mostly  Beadle's  Dime  Novels,  which  had  a  great 
sale  at  the  time. 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  you  have  quantity,  quality, 
and  variety,  as  I  have  before  remarked.  '  The  Mur- 
derous Sioux  of  Kalamazoo  ; '  that's  a  good  one.  A 
hair-raising  Indian  story  in  every  sense  of  the  world. 
The  one  you  are  looking  at  is  a  pirate  story,  judging 
by  the  burning  ship  on  the  cover.  But  for  first-class 
highwaymen  yarns,  this  other  edition  is  the  best. 
That's  the  '  Sixteen  String  Jack  set.'  They're  im- 
mense if  they  do  cost  a  quarter  each.  You  must 
begin  at  the  right  volume,  or  you'll  be  sorry.  You 
see,  they  never  really  end,  although  every  volume  is 
supposed  to  be  complete  in  itself.  They  leave  off 
at  the  most  exciting  point,  and  are  continued  in  the 
next  volume.  I  call  that  a  pretty  good  idea,  but  it's 
rather  exasperating  if  you  begin  at  the  last  book. 
You'll  enjoy  this  lot.  I'm  glad  I  brought  them 
along." 

"  It  is  a  blessing,"  said  Renmark,  with  the  ghost  of 
a  smile  about  his  lips.  "  I  can  truthfully  say  that 
they  are  entirely  new  to  me." 

"That's  all  right,  my  boy,"  cried   Yates  loftily, 


H2         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "  Use  them  as  if  they  were 
your  own." 

Renmark  arose  leisurely  and  picked  up  a  quantity 
of  the  books. 

"  These  will  do  excellently  for  lighting  our  morn- 
ing camp-fire,"  he  said.  "  And  if  you  will  allow  me 
to  treat  them  as  if  they  were  my  own,  that  is  the  use 
to  which  I  will  put  them.  You  surely  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  you  read  such  trash  as  this,  Yates  ?  " 

"  Trash  ?  "  exclaimed  Yates  indignantly.  "  It 
serves  me  right.  That's  what  a  man  gets  for  being 
decent  to  you,  Renny.  Well,  you're  not  compelled 
to  read  them  ;  but  if  you  put  one  of  them  in  the  fire, 
your  stupid  treatises  will  follow,  if  they  are  not  too 
solid  to  burn.  You  don't  know  good  literature  when 
you  see  it." 

The  professor,  buoyed  up,  perhaps,  by  the  conceit 
which  comes  to  a  man  through  the  possession  of  a 
real  sheepskin  diploma,  granted  by  a  university  of 
good  standing,  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  defend 
his  literary  taste.  He  busied  himself  in  pruning  a 
stick  he  had  cut  in  the  forest,  and  finally  he  got  it 
into  the  semblance  of  a  walking  cane.  He  was  an 
athletic  man,  and  the  indolence  of  camp  life  did  not 
suit  him  as  it  did  Yates.  He  tested  the  stick  in 
various  ways  when  he  had  trimmed  it  to  his  satis- 
faction. 

"Are  you  ready  for  a  ten-mile  walk?  "he  asked 
of  the  man  in  the  hammock. 

"  Good  gracious,  no.  Man  wants  but  little  walking 
here  below,  and  he  doesn't  want  it  ten  miles  in 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          113 

length  either.     I'm  easily  satisfied.     You're  off,  are 
you  ?     Well,  so  long.    And  I  say,  Renny,  bring  back 
some  bread  when  you  return  to  camp.     It's  the  one 
safe  thing  to  do  ' 
8 


CHAPTER  IX 

RENMARK  walked  through  the  woods  and  then 
across  the  fields,  until  he  came  to  the  road.  He 
avoided  the  habitations  of  man  as  much  as  he  could, 
for  he  was  neither  so  sociably  inclined  nor  so  fre- 
quently hungry  as  was  his  companion.  He  strode 
along  the  road,  not  caring  much  where  it  led  him. 
Everyone  he  met  gave  him  "  Good-day,"  after  the 
friendly  custom  of  the  country.  Those  with  waggons 
or  lighter  vehicles  going  in  his  direction  usually 
offered  him  a  ride,  and  went  on,  wondering  that  a 
man  should  choose  to  walk  when  it  was  not  com- 
pulsory. The  professor,  like  most  silent  men,  found 
himself  good  company,  and  did  not  feel  the  need  of 
companionship  in  his  walks.  He  had  been  relieved 
rather  than  disappointed  when  Yates  refused  to  ac- 
company him.  And  Yates,  swinging  drowsily  in  his 
hammock,  was  no  less  gratified.  Even  where  men 
are  firm  and  intimate  friends,  the  first  few  days  of 
camping  out  is  a  severe  strain  on  their  regard  for 
each  other.  If  Damon  and  Pythias  had  occupied  a 
tent  together  for  a  week,  the  worst  enemy  of  either, 
or  both,  might  at  the  end  of  that  time  have  ventured 
into  the  camp  in  safety,  and  would  have  been  wel- 
come. 
114 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         115 

Renmark  thought  of  these  things  as  he  walked 
along.  His  few  days'  intimacy  with  Yates  had 
shown  him  how  far  apart  they  had  managed  to  get 
by  following  paths  that  diverged  more  and  more 
widely  the  longer  they  were  trodden.  The  friend- 
ship of  their  youth  had  turned  out  to  be  merely 
ephemeral.  Neither  would  now  choose  the  other 
as  an  intimate  associate.  Another  illusion  had 
gone. 

"  I  have  surely  enough  self-control,"  said  Renmark 
to  himself,  as  he  walked  on,  "  to  stand  his  shallow 
flippancy  for  another  week,  and  not  let  him  see  what 
I  think  of  him." 

Yates  at  the  same  time  was  thoroughly  enjoying 
the  peaceful  silence  of  the  camp.  "  That  man  is  an 
exaggerated  schoolmaster,  with  all  the  faults  of  the 
species  abnormally  developed.  If  I  once  open  out 
on  him,  he  will  learn  more  truth  about  himself  in 
ten  minutes  than  he  ever  heard  in  his  life  before. 
What  an  unbearable  prig  he  has  grown  to  be." 
Thus  ran  Yates'  thoughts  as  he  swung  in  his  ham- 
mock, looking  up  at  the  ceiling  of  green  leaves. 

Nevertheless,  the  case  was  not  so  bad  as  either  of 
them  thought.  If  it  had  been,  then  were  marriage 
not  only  a  failure,  but  a  practical  impossibility.  If 
two  men  can  get  over  the  first  few  days  in  camp 
without  a  quarrel,  life  becomes  easier,  and  the  ten- 
sion relaxes. 

Renmark,  as  he  polished  off  his  ten  miles,  paid 
little  heed  to  those  he  met ;  but  one  driver  drew  up 
his  horse  and  accosted  him. 


ii6         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Good-day,"  he  said.  "  How  are  you  getting  on 
in  the  tent  ?  " 

The  professor  was  surprised  at  the  question.  Had 
their  tenting-out  eccentricity  gone  all  over  the  coun- 
try? He  was  not  a  quick  man  at  recognising  people, 
belonging,  as  he  did,  to  the  "  I-remember-your-face- 
but-can't-recall-your-name  "  fraternity.  It  had  been 
said  of  him  that  he  never,  at  any  one  time,  knew 
the  names  of  more  than  half  a  dozen  students  in  his 
class ;  but  this  was  an  undergraduate  libel  on  him. 
The  young  man  who  had  accosted  him  was  driving 
a  single  horse,  attached  to  what  he  termed  a  "  dem- 
ocrat " — a  four-wheeled  light  waggon,  not  so  slim  and 
elegant  as  a  buggy,  nor  so  heavy  and  clumsy  as  a 
waggon.  Renmark  looked  up  at  the  driver  with 
confused  unrecognition,  troubled  because  he  was 
vaguely  aware  that  he  had  met  him  somewhere  be- 
fore. But  his  surprise  at  being  addressed  speedily 
changed  into  amazement  as  he  looked  from  the 
driver  to  the  load.  The  "  democrat  "  was  heaped 
with  books.  The  larger  volumes  were  stuck  along 
the  sides  with  some  regularity,  and  in  this  way  kept 
the  miscellaneous  pile  from  being  shaken  out  on  the 
road.  His  eye  glittered  with  a  new  interest  as  it 
rested  on  the  many-coloured  bindings  ;  and  he  recog- 
nised in  the  pile  the  peculiar  brown  covers  of  the 
"  Bohn "  edition  of  classic  translations,  that  were 
scattered  like  so  many  turnips  over  the  top  of  this 
ridge  of  literature.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  to  make 
sure  he  was  not  dreaming.  How  came  a  farmer's 
boy  to  be  driving  a  waggon-load  of  books  in  the 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          117 

wilds  of  the  country  as  nonchalantly  as  if  they  were 
so  many  bushels  of  potatoes  ? 

The  young  driver,  who  had  stopped  his  horse,  for 
the  load  was  heavy  and  the  sand  was  deep,  saw  that 
the  stranger  not  only  did  not  recognise  him,  but  that 
from  the  moment  he  saw  the  books  he  had  forgotten 
everything  else.  It  was  evidently  necessary  to  speak 
again. 

"If  you  are  coming  back,  will  you  have  a  ride?" 
he  asked. 

"  I — I  think  I  will,"  said  the  professor,  descend- 
ing to  earth  again  and  climbing  up  beside  the 
boy. 

"  I  see  you  don't  remember  me,"  said  the  latter, 
starting  his  horse  again.  "  My  name  is  Howard.  I 
passed  you  in  my  buggy  when  you  were  coming  in 
with  your  tent  that  day  on  the  Ridge.  Your  partner 
—what's  his  name — Yates,  isn't  it  ? — had  dinner  at 
our  house  the  other  day." 

"  Ah,  yes.  I  recollect  you  now.  I  thought  I  had 
seen  you  before  ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  you 
know.  I  have  a  very  poor  memory  so  far  as  people 
are  concerned.  It  has  always  been  a  failing  of  mine. 
Are  these  your  books  ?  And  how  do  you  happen  to 
have  such  a  quantity  ?  " 

"  Oh,  this  is  the  library,"  said  young  Howard. 

"  The  library  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  township  library,  you  know." 

"  Oh !  The  township  has  a  library,  then  ?  I 
didn't  know." 

"  Well,  it's  part  of  it.     This  is  a  fifth  part.     You 


i  rS         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

know  about  township  libraries,  don't  you  ?  Your 
partner  said  you  were  a  college  man." 

Renmark  blushed  at  his  own  ignorance,  but  he 
was  never  reluctant  to  admit  it. 

"  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  confess  it,  but  I  know 
nothing  of  township  libraries.  Please  tell  me  about 
them." 

Young  Howard  was  eager  to  give  information  to  a 
professor,  especially  on  the  subject  of  books,  which 
he  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  province  of  college- 
bred  men.  He  was  pleased  also  to  discover  that 
city  people  did  not  know  everything.  He  had  long 
had  the  idea  that  they  did,  and  this  belief  had  been 
annoyingly  corroborated  by  the  cocksureness  of 
Yates.  The  professor  evidently  was  a  decent  fellow 
who  did  not  pretend  to  universal  knowledge.  This 
was  encouraging.  He  liked  Renmark  better  than 
Yates,  and  was  glad  he  had  offered  him  a  ride,  al- 
though, of  course,  that  was  the  custom ;  still,  a  per- 
son with  one  horse  and  a  heavy  load  is  exempt  on  a 
sandy  road. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  he  said  in  explanation,  "  it's  like 
this :  The  township  votes  a  sum  of  money,  say  a 
hundred  dollars,  or  two  hundred,  as  the  case  may  be. 
They  give  notice  to  the  Government  of  the  amount 
voted,  and  the  Government  adds  the  same  amount 
to  the  township  money,  It's  like  the  old  game  :  you 
think  of  a  number,  and  they  double  it.  The  Gov- 
ernment has  a  depository  of  books,  in  Toronto,  I 
think,  and  they  sell  them  cheaper  than  the  book- 
stores do.  At  any  rate,  the  four  hundred  dollars' 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         119 

worth  are  bought,  or  whatever  the  amount  is,  and 
the  books  are  the  property  of  the  township.  Five 
persons  are  picked  out  in  the  township  as  librarians, 
and  they  have  to  give  security.  My  father  is  libra- 
rian for  this  section.  The  library  is  divided  into  five 
parts,  and  each  librarian  gets  a  share.  Once  a  year 
I  go  to  the  next  section  and  get  all  their  books. 
They  go  to  the  next  section,  again,  and  get  all  the 
books  at  that  place.  A  man  comes  to  our  house  to- 
day and  takes  all  we  have.  So  we  get  a  complete 
change  every  year,  and  in  five  years  we  get  back  the 
first  batch,  which  by  that  time  we  have  forgotten  all 
about.  To-day  is  changing  day  all  around." 

"  And  the  books  are  lent  to  any  person  in  each  sec- 
tion who  wishes  to  read  them  ?  "  asked  the  professor. 

"  Yes.  Margaret  keeps  a  record,  and  a  person  can 
have  a  book  out  for  two  weeks;  after  that  time 
there  is  a  fine,  but  Margaret  never  fines  anyone." 

"  And  do  people  have  to  pay  to  take  out  the 
books?" 

"  Not  likely  !  "  said  Howard  with  fine  contempt. 
"  You  wouldn't  expect  people  to  pay  for  reading 
books ;  would  you,  now  ?  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  And  who  selected  the  vol- 
umes ?  " 

"  Well,  the  township  can  select  the  books  if  it 
likes,  or  it  can  send  a  committee  to  select  them  ;  but 
they  didn't  think  it  worth  the  trouble  and  expense. 
People  grumbled  enough  at  wasting  money  on  books 
as  it  was,  even  if  they  did  buy  them  at  half  price. 
Still,  others  said  it  was  a  pity  not  to  get  the  money 


120        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

out  of  the  Government  when  they  had  the  chance. 
I  don't  believe  any  of  them  cared  very  much  about 
the  books,  except  father  and  a  few  others.  So  the 
Government  chose  the  books.  They'll  do  that  if 
you  leave  it  to  them.  And  a  queer  lot  of  trash  they 
sent,  if  you  take  my  word  for  it.  I  believe  they 
shoved  off  on  us  all  the  things  no  one  else  would 
buy.  Even  when  they  did  pick  out  novels,  they 
were  just  as  tough  as  the  history  books.  '  Adam 
Bede  '  is  one.  They  say  that's  a  novel.  I  tried  it, 
but  I  would  rather  read  the  history  of  Josephus  any 
day.  There's  some  fighting  in  that,  if  it  is  a  history. 
Then  there's  any  amount  of  biography  books. 
They're  no  good.  There's  a  '  History  of  Napoleon.' 
Old  Bartlett's  got  that,  and  he  won't  give  it  up.  He 
says  he  was  taxed  for  the  library  against  his  will. 
He  dares  them  to  go  to  law  about  it,  and  it  ain't 
worth  while  for  one  book.  The  other  sections  are 
all  asking  for  that  book ;  not  that  they  want  it,  but 
the  whole  country  knows  that  old  Bartlett's  a-hold- 
ing  on  to  it,  so  they'd  like  to  see  some  fun.  Bart- 
lett's read  that  book  fourteen  times,  and  it's  all  he 
knows.  I  tell  Margaret  she  ought  to  fine  him,  and 
keep  on  fining,  but  she  won't  do  it.  I  guess  Bart- 
lett  thinks  the  book  belongs  to  him  by  this  time. 
Margaret  likes  Kitty  and  Mrs.  Bartlett, — so  does 
everybody, — but  old  Bartlett's  a  seed.  There  he 
sits  now  on  his  veranda,  and  it's  a  wonder  he's  not 
reading  the  '  History  of  Napoleon.'  " 

They  were  passing  the  Bartlett  house,  and  young 
Howard  raised  his  voice  and  called  out: 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         121 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Bartlett,  we  want  that  Napoleon  book. 
This  is  changing  day,  you  know.  Shall  I  come  up 
for  it,  or  will  you  bring  it  down?  If  you  fetch  it  to 
the  gate,  I'll  cart  it  home  now." 

The  old  man  paid  no  heed  to  what  was  said  to 
him  ;  but  Mrs.  Bartlett,  attracted  by  the  outcry,  came 
to  the  door. 

"  You  go  along  with  your  books,  you  young 
rascal !  "  she  cried,  coming  down  to  the  gate  when 
she  saw  the  professor.  "  That's  a  nice  way  to  carry 
bound  books,  as  if  they  were  a  lot  of  bricks.  I'll 
warrant  you  have  lost  a  dozen  between  Mallory's  and 
here.  But  easy  come,  easy  go.  It's  plain  to  be 
seen  they  didn't  cost  you  anything.  I  don't  know 
what  the  world's  a-coming  to  when  the  township 
spends  its  money  in  books,  as  if  taxes  weren't  heavy 
enough  already.  Won't  you  come  in,  Mr.  Renmark  ? 
Tea's  on  the  table." 

"  Mr.  Renmark's  coming  with  me  this  trip,  Mrs. 
Bartlett,"  young  Howard  said  before  the  professor 
had  time  to  reply;  "  but  I'll  come  over  and  take  tea 
if  you'll  invite  me,  as  soon  as  I  have  put  the  horse 
up." 

"  You  go  along  with  your  nonsense,"  she  said ; 
"  I  know  you."  Then  in  a  lower  voice  she  asked  : 
"  How  is  your  mother,  Henry — and  Margaret?" 

"  They're  pretty  well,  thanks." 

"  Tell  them  I'm  going  to  run  over  to  see  them 
some  day  soon,  but  that  need  not  keep  them  from 
coming  to  see  me.  The  old  man's  going  to  town 
to-morrow,"  and  with  this  hint,  after  again  inviting 


122         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

the  professor  to  a  meal,  she  departed  up  the  path  to 
the  house. 

"  I  think  I'll  get  down  here,"  said  Renmark,  half- 
way between  the  two  houses.  "  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  the  ride,  and  also  for  what  you 
told  me  about  the  books.  It  was  very  interesting." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  young  Howard  ;  "  I'm  not 
going  to  let  you  do  anything  of  the  sort.  You're 
coming  home  with  me.  You  want  to  seethe  books, 
don't  you  ?  Very  well,  then,  come  along.  Mar- 
garet  is  always  impatient  on  changing  day,  she's  so 
anxious  to  see  the  books,  and  father  generally  comes 
in  early  from  the  fields  for  the  same  reason." 

As  they  approached  the  Howard  homestead  they 
noticed  Margaret  waiting  for  them  at  the  gate ;  but 
when  the  girl  saw  that  a  stranger  was  in  the  waggon, 
she  turned  and  walked  into  the  house.  Renmark, 
seeing  this  retreat,  regretted  he  had  not  accepted 
Mrs.  Bartlett's  invitation.  He  was  a  sensitive  man, 
and  did  not  realise  that  others  were  sometimes  as 
shy  as  himself.  He  felt  he  was  intruding,  and  that 
at  a  sacred  moment — the  moment  of  the  arrival  of 
the  library.  He  was  such  a  lover  of  books,  and 
valued  so  highly  the  privilege  of  being  alone  with 
them,  that  he  fancied  he  saw  in  the  abrupt  depart- 
ure of  Margaret  the  same  feeling  of  resentment  he 
would  himself  have  experienced  if  a  visitor  had 
encroached  upon  him  in  his  favourite  nook  in  the  fine 
room  that  held  the  library  of  the  university. 

When  the  waggon  stopped  in  the  lane,  Renmark 
said  hesitatingly : 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         123 

"I  think  I'll  not  stay,  if  you  don't  mind.  My 
friend  is  waiting  for  me  at  the  camp,  and  will  be 
wondering  what  has  become  of  me." 

"Who?  Yates?  Let  him  wonder.  I  guess  he 
never  bothers  about  anybody  else  as  long  as  he  is 
comfortable  himself.  That's  how  I  sized  him  up, 
at  any  rate.  Besides,  you're  never  going  back  on 
carrying  in  the  books,  are  you?  I  counted  on  your 
help.  I  don't  want  to  do  it,  and  it  don't  seem 
the  square  thing  to  let  Margaret  do  it  all  alone ; 
does  it,  now?  " 

"  Oh,  if  I  can  be  of  any  assistance,  I  shall " 

"  Of  course  you  can.  Besides,  I  know  my  father 
wants  to  see  you,  anyhow.  Don't  you,  father?  " 

The  old  man  was  coming  round  from  the  back  of 
the  house  to  meet  them. 

"  Don't  I  what?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  said  you  wanted  to  see  Professor  Renmark 
when  Margaret  told  you  what  Yates  had  said  to  her 
about  him." 

Renmark  reddened  slightly  at  finding  so  many 
people  had  made  him  the  subject  of  conversation, 
rather  suspecting  at  the  same  time  that  the  boy  was 
making  fun  of  him.  Mr.  Howard  cordially  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  So  this  is  Professor  Renmark,  is  it?  I  am  very 
pleased  to  see  you.  Yes,  as  Henry  was  saying,  I 
have  been  wanting  to  see  you  ever  since  my  daugh- 
ter spoke  of  you.  I  suppose  Henry  told  you  that 
his  brother  is  a  pupil  of  yours?  " 

"Oh!   is  Arthur  Howard  your  son?  "  cried  Ren- 


124         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

mark,  warming  up  at  once.  "  I  did  not  know  it. 
There  are  many  young  men  at  the  college,  and  I 
have  but  the  vaguest  idea  from  what  parts  of  the 
country  they  all  come.  A  teacher  should  have  no 
favourites,  but  I  must  confess  to  a  strong  liking  for 
your  son.  He  is  a  good  boy,  which  cannot  be  said 
about  every  member  of  my  class." 

"  Arthur  was  always  studious,  so  we  thought  we 
would  give  him  a  chance.  I  am  glad  to  hear  he  be- 
haves himself  in  the  city.  Farming  is  hard  work, 
and  I  hope  my  boys  will  have  an  easier  time  than  I 
had.  But  come  in,  come  in.  The  missus  and  Mar. 
garet  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  and  hear  how  the  boy 
is  coming  on  with  his  studies." 

So  they  went  in  together. 


CHAPTER  X 

"  HELLO !  Hello,  there  !  Wake  up  !  Break- 
fa-a-a-st !  I  thought  that  would  fetch  you.  Gosh  ! 
I  wish  I  had  your  job  at  a  dollar  a  day !  " 

Yates  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  sat  up  in  the  ham- 
mock. At  first  he  thought  the  forest  was  tumbling 
down  about  his  ears,  but  as  he  collected  his  wits 
he  saw  that  it  was  only  young  Bartlett  who  had 
come  crashing  through  the  woods  on  the  back  of 
one  horse,  while  he  led  another  by  a  strap  attached 
to  a  halter.  The  echo  of  his  hearty  yell  still  re- 
sounded in  the  depths  of  the  woods,  and  rang  in 
Yates'  ears  as  he  pulled  himself  together. 

"  Did  you — ah — make  any  remarks  ?  "  asked 
Yates  quietly. 

The  boy  admired  Ijis  gift  of  never  showing 
surprise. 

"  I  say,  don't  you  know  that  it's  not  healthy  to 
go  to  sleep  in  the  middle  of  the  day  ?  " 

"  Is  it  the  middle  of  the  day  ?  I  thought  it  was 
later.  I  guess  I  can  stand  it,  if  the  middle  of  the 
day  can.  I've  a  strong  constitution.  Now,  what 
do  you  mean  by  dashing  up  on  two  horses  into  a 

man's  bedroom  in  that  reckless  fashion  ?  " 

125 


126         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

The  boy  laughed. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  like  a  ride.  I 
knew  you  were  alone,  for  I  saw  the  professor  go 
mooning  up  the  road  a  little  while  ago." 

"  Oh !     Where  was  he  going  ?  " 

"  Hanged  if  I  know,  and  he  didn't  look  as  if  he 
knew  himself.  He's  a  queer  fish,  ain't  he?" 

"  He  is.  Everybody  can't  be  as  sensible  and 
handsome  as  we  are,  you  know.  Where  are  you 
going  with  those  horses,  young  man  ?  " 

"  To  get  them  shod.  Won't  you  come  along  ? 
You  can  ride  the  horse  I'm  on.  It's  got  a  bridle. 
I'll  ride  the  one  with  the  halter." 

"  How  far  away  is  the  blacksmith's  shop  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  couple  of  miles  or  so  ;  down  at  the  Cross 
Roads." 

"  Well,"  said  Yates,  there's  merit  in  the  idea.  I 
take  it  your  generous  offer  is  made  in  good  faith, 
and  not  necessarily  for  publication." 

"  I  don't  understand.     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"There  is  no  concealed  joke,  is  there?  No  get- 
ting me  on  the  back  of  one  of  those  brutes  to  make 
a  public  exhibition  of  me  ?  Do  they  bite  or  kick 
or  buck,  or  playfully  roll  over  a  person?" 

"  No,"  cried  young  Bartlett  indignantly.  "  This 
is  no  circus.  Why,  a  baby  could  ride  one  of  these 
horses." 

"  Well,  that's  about  the  style  of  horse  I  prefer. 
You  see,  I'm  a  trifle  out  of  practice.  I  never  rode 
anything  more  spirited  than  a  street  car,  and  1 
haven't  been  on  one  of  them  for  a  week." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         127 

"  Oh,  you  can  ride  all  right.  I  guess  you  could 
do  most  things  you  set  your  mind  to." 

Yates  was  flattered  by  this  palpably  sincere  tribute 
to  his  capacity,  so  he  got  out  of  the  hammock. 
The  boy,  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  horse  with 
both  feet  on  one  side,  now  straightened  his  back 
and  slipped  to  the  ground. 

"  Wait  till  I  throw  down  the  fence,"  he  said. 

Yates  mounted  with  some  difficulty,  and  the  two 
went  trotting  along  the  road.  He  managed  to  hold 
his  place  with  some  little  uncertainty,  but  the  jog- 
gling up  and  down  worried  him.  He  never  seemed 
to  alight  in  quite  the  same  place  on  the  horse's 
back,  and  this  gave  an  element  of  chance  to  his 
position  which  embarrassed  him.  He  expected  to 
come  down  some  time  and  find  the  horse  wasn't 
there.  The  boy  laughed  at  his  riding,  but  Yates 
was  too  much  engaged  in  keeping  his  position  to 
mind  that  very  much. 

"  D-d-dirt  is  s-s-said  to  b-b-be  matter  out  of  place, 
and  that's  what's  the  m-m-mat-matter  w-w-with  me." 
His  conversation  seemed  to  be  shaken  out  of  him  by 
the  trotting  of  the  horse.  "  I  say,  Bartlett,  I  can't 
stand  this  any  longer.  I'd  rather  walk." 

"  You're  all  right,"  said  the  boy  ;  "  we'll  make  him 
canter." 

He  struck  the  horse  over  the  flank  with  the  loose 
end  of  the  halter  rein. 

"  Here !  "  shouted  Yates,  letting  go  the  bridle  and 
grasping  the  mane.  "  Don't  make  him  go  faster, 


128         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

you  young  fiend.  I'll  murder  you  when  I  get  off— 
and  that  will  be  soon." 

"  You're  all  right,"  repeated  young  Bartlett,  and, 
much  to  his  astonishment,  Yates  found  it  to  be  so. 
When  the  horse  broke  into  a  canter,  Yates  thought 
the  motion  as  easy  as  swinging  in  a  hammock,  and 
as  soothing  as  a  rocking-chair. 

"  This  is  an  improvement.  But  we've  got  to  keep 
it  up,  for  if  this  brute  suddenly  changes  to  a  trot, 
I'm  done  for." 

"  We'll  keep  it  up  until  we  come  in  sight  of  the 
Corners,  then  we'll  slow  down  to  a  walk.  There's 
sure  to  be  a  lot  of  fellows  at  the  blacksmith's  shop, 
so  we'll  come  in  on  them  easy  like." 

"You're  a  good  fellow,  Bartlett,"  said  Yates.  "  I 
suspected  you  of  tricks  at  first.  I'm  afraid,  if  I  had 
got  another  chap  in  such  a  fix,  I  wouldn't  have  let 
him  off  as  easily  as  you  have  me.  The  temptation 
would  have  been  too  great." 

When  they  reached  the  blacksmith's  shop  at  the 
Corners,  they  found  four  horses  in  the  building 
ahead  of  them.  Bartlett  tied  his  team  outside,  and 
then,  with  his  comrade,  entered  the  wide  doorway  of 
the  smithy.  The  shop  was  built  of  rough  boards, 
and  the  inside  was  blackened  with  soot.  It  was  not 
well  lighted,  the  two  windows  being  obscured  with 
much  smoke,  so  that  they  were  useless  as  far  as  their 
original  purpose  was  concerned ;  but  the  doorway, 
as  wide  as  that  of  a  barn,  allowed  all  the  light  to 
come  in  that  the  smith  needed  for  his  work.  At  the 
far  end  and  darkest  corner  of  the  place  stood  the 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         129 

forge,  with  the  large  bellows  behind  it,  concealed, 
for  the  most  part,  by  the  chimney.  The  forge  was 
perhaps  six  feet  square  and  three  or  four  feet  high, 
built  of  plank  and  filled  in  with  earth.  The  top  was 
covered  with  cinders  and  coal,  while  in  the  centre 
glowed  the  red  core  of  the  fire,  with  blue  flames 
hovering  over  it.  The  man  who  worked  the  bellows 
chewed  tobacco,  and  now  and  then  projected  the 
juice  with  deadly  accuracy  right  into  the  centre  of 
the  fire,  where  it  made  a  momentary  hiss  and  dark 
spot.  All  the  frequenters  of  the  smithy  admired 
Sandy's  skill  in  expectoration,  and  many  tried  in 
vain  to  emulate  it.  The  envious  said  it  was  due  to 
the  peculiar  formation  of  his  front  teeth,  the  upper 
row  being  prominent,  and  the  two  middle  teeth  set 
far  apart,  as  if  one  were  missing.  But  this  was  jeal- 
ousy ;  Sandy's  perfection  in  the  art  was  due  to  no 
favouritism  of  nature,  but  to  constant  and  long-con- 
tinued practice.  Occasionally  with  his  callous  right 
hand,  never  removing  his  left  from  the  lever,  Sandy 
pulled  an  iron  bar  out  of  the  fire  and  examined  it 
critically.  The  incandescent  end  of  the  bar  radiated 
a  blinding  white  light  when  it  was  gently  withdrawn, 
and  illuminated  the  man's  head,  making  his  beardless 
face  look,  against  its  dark  background,  like  the 
smudged  countenance  of  some  cynical  demon  glow- 
ing with  a  fire  from  within.  The  end  of  the  bar 
which  he  held  must  have  been  very  hot  to  an  ordi- 
nary mortal,  as  everyone  in  the  shop  knew,  all  of  them, 
at  their  initiation  to  the  country  club,  having  been 
handed  a  black  piece  of  iron  from  Sandy's  hand, 
9 


130         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

which  he  held  unflinchingly,  but  which  the  innocent 
receiver  usually  dropped  with  a  yell.  This  was 
Sandy's  favourite  joke,  and  made  life  worth  living  for 
him.  It  was  perhaps  not  so  good  as  the  blacksmith's 
own  bit  of  humour,  but  public  opinion  was  divided  on 
that  point.  Every  great  man  has  his  own  particular 
set  of  admirers ;  and  there  were  some  who  said, — 
under  their  breaths,  of  course, — that  Sandy  could 
turn  a  horseshoe  as  well  as  Macdonald  himself. 
Experts,  however,  while  admitting  Sandy's  general 
genius,  did  not  go  so  far  as  this. 

About  half  a  dozen  members  of  the  club  were 
present,  and  most  of  them  stood  leaning  against 
something  with  hands  deep  in  their  trousers  pockets ; 
one  was  sitting  on  the  blacksmith's  bench,  with  his 
legs  dangling  down.  On  the  bench  tools  were  scat- 
tered round  so  thickly  that  he  had  had  to  clear  a 
place  before  he  could  sit  down  ;  the  taking  of  this 
liberty  proved  the  man  to  be  an  old  and  privileged 
member.  He  sat  there  whittling  a  stick,  aimlessly 
bringing  it  to  a  fine  point,  examining  it  frequently 
with  a  critical  air,  as  if  he  were  engaged  in  some 
delicate  operation  which  required  great  discrimina- 
tion. 

The  blacksmith  himself  stooped  with  his  back  to 
one  of  the  horses,  the  hind  hoof  of  the  animal,  be- 
tween his  knees,  resting  on  his  leathern  apron.  The 
horse  was  restive,  looking  over  its  shoulder  at  him, 
not  liking  what  was  going  on.  Macdonald  swore  at 
it  fluently,  and  requested  it  to  stand  still,  holding  the 
foot  as  firmly  as  if  it  were  in  his  own  iron  vise, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         131 

which  was  fixed  to  the  table  near  the  whittler.  With 
his  right  hand  he  held  a  hot  horseshoe,  attached  to 
an  iron  punch  that  had  been  driven  into  one  of  the 
nail  holes,  and  this  he  pressed  against  the  upraised 
hoof,  as  though  sealing  a  document  with  a  gigantic 
seal.  Smoke  and  flame  arose  from  the  contact  of  the 
hot  iron  with  the  hoof,  and  the  air  was  filled  with 
the  not  unpleasant  odour  of  burning  horn.  The 
smith's  tool-box,  with  hammer,  pinchers,  and  nails, 
lay  on  the  earthen  floor  within  easy  reach.  The 
sweat  poured  from  his  grimy  brow ;  for  it  was  a  hot 
job,  and  Macdonald  was  in  the  habit  of  making  the 
most  of  his  work.  He  was  called  the  hardest  work- 
ing man  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  he  was 
proud  of  the  designation.  He  was  a  standing  re- 
proach to  the  loafers  who  frequented  his  shop,  and 
that  fact  gave  him  pleasure  in  their  company.  Be- 
sides, a  man  must  have  an  audience  when  he  is  an 
expert  in  swearing.  Macdonald's  profanity  was 
largely  automatic, — a  natural  gift,  as  it  were, — and 
he  meant  nothing  wrong  by  it.  In  fact,  when  you 
got  him  fighting  angry,  he  always  forgot  to  swear ; 
but  in  his  calm  moments  oaths  rolled  easily  and 
picturesquely  from  his  lips,  and  gave  fluency  to  his 
conversation.  Macdonald  enjoyed  the  reputation 
round  about  of  being  a  wicked  man,  which  he  was 
not;  his  language  was  against  him,  that  was  all. 
This  reputation  had  a  misty  halo  thrown  around  it 
by  Macdonald's  unknown  doings  '  down  East,'  from 
which  mystical  region  he  had  come.  No  one  knew 
just  what  Macdonald  had  done,  but  it  was  admitted 


132         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

on  all  sides  that  he  must  have  had  some  terrible  ex- 
periences, although  he  was  still  a  young  man  and 
unmarried.  He  used  to  say  :  "  When  you  have  come 
through  what  I  have,  you  won't  be  so  ready  to  pick 
a  quarrel  with  a  man." 

This  must  have  meant  something  significant,  but 
the  blacksmith  never  took  anyone  into  his  con- 
fidence ;  and  "  down  East  "  is  a  vague  place,  a  sort 
of  indefinite,  unlocalised,  no-man's-land,  situated 
anywhere  between  Toronto  and  Quebec.  Almost 
anything  might  have  happened  in  such  a  space  of 
country.  Macdonald's  favourite  way  of  crushing  an 
opponent  was  to  say :  "  When  you've  had  some  of 
my  experiences,  young  man,  you'll  know  better'n  to 
talk  like  that."  All  this  gave  a  certain  fascination 
to  friendship  with  the  blacksmith  ;  and  the  farmers' 
boys  felt  that  they  were  playing  with  fire  when  in 
his  company,  getting,  as  it  were,  a  glimpse  of  the 
dangerous  side  of  life.  As  for  work,  the  blacksmith 
revelled  in  it,  and  made  it  practically  his  only  vice. 
He  did  everything  with  full  steam  on,  and  was,  as 
has  been  said,  a  constant  reproach  to  loafers  all  over 
the  country.  When  there  was  no  work  to  do,  he 
made  work.  When  there  was  work  to  do,  he  did  it 
with  a  rush,  sweeping  the  sweat  from  his  grimy  brow 
with  his  hooked  fore-finger,  and  flecking  it  to  the 
floor  with  a  flirt  of  the  right  hand,  loose  on  the  wrist, 
in  a  way  that  made  his  thumb  and  fore-finger  snap 
together  like  the  crack  of  a  whip.  This  action  was 
always  accompanied  with  a  long-drawn  breath,  almost 
a  sigh,  that  seemed  to  say:  "  I  wish  I  had  the  easy 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         133 

times  you  fellows  have."  In  fact,  since  he  came  to 
the  neighbourhood  the  current  phrase,  "  He  works 
like  a  steer,"  had  given  way  to,  "  He  works  like  Mac- 
donald,"  except  with  the  older  people,  who  find  it 
hard  to  change  phrases.  Yet  everyone  liked  the 
blacksmith,  and  took  no  special  offence  at  his  untir- 
ing industry,  looking  at  it  rather  as  an  example  to 
others. 

He  did  not  glance  up  as  the  two  newcomers  en- 
tered, but  industriously  pared  down  the  hoof  with  a 
curiously  formed  knife  turned  like  a  hook  at  the 
point,  burned  in  the  shoe  to  its  place,  nailed  it  on, 
and  rasped  the  hoof  into  shape  with  a  long,  broad 
file.  Not  till  he  let  the  foot  drop  on  the  earthen 
floor,  and  slapped  the  impatient  horse  on  the  flank, 
did  he  deign  to  answer  young  Bartlett's  inquiry. 

"  No,"  he  said,  wringing  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead,  "  all  these  horses  ain't  ahead  of  you,  and 
you  won't  need  to  come  next  week.  That's  the  last 
hoof  of  the  last  horse.  No  man  needs  to  come  to 
my  shop  and  go  away  again,  while  the  breath  of  life 
is  left  in  me.  And  I  don't  do  it,  either,  by  sitting 
on  a  bench  and  whittling  a  stick." 

"  That's  so.  That's  so,"  said  Sandy,  chuckling,  in 
the  admiring  tone  of  one  who  intimated  that,  when 
the  boss  spoke,  wisdom  was  uttered.  "  That's  one 
on  you,  Sam." 

"  I  guess  I  can  stand  it,  if  he  can,"  said  the  whittler 
from  the  bench ;  which  was  considered  fair  repartee. 

"  Sit  it,  you  mean,"  said  young  Bartlett,  laughing 
with  the  others  at  his  own  joke. 


134        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  But,"  said  the  blacksmith  severely,  "  we*re  out 
of  shoes,  and  you'll  have  to  wait  till  we  turn  some, 
that  is,  if  you  don't  want  the  old  ones  reset.  Are 
they  good  enough  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so,  if  you  can  find  'em  ;  but  they're  out 
in  the  fields.  Didn't  think  I'd  bring  the  horses  in 
while  they  held  on,  did  you  ?  "  Then,  suddenly  re- 
membering his  duties,  he  said  by  way  of  general 
introduction  :  "  Gentlemen,  this  is  my  friend,  Mr. 
Yates,  from  New  York." 

The  name  seemed  to  fall  like  a  wet  blanket  on  the 
high  spirits  of  the  crowd.  They  had  imagined  from 
the  cut  of  his  clothes  that  he  was  a  storekeeper  from 
some  village  around,  or  an  auctioneer  from  a  distance, 
these  two  occupations  being  the  highest  social  posi- 
tion to  which  a  man  might  attain.  They  were  pre- 
pared to  hear  that  he  was  from  Welland,  or  perhaps 
St.  Catherine's ;  but  New  York !  that  was  a  crusher. 
Macdonald,  however,  was  not  a  man  to  be  put  down 
in  his  own  shop  and  before  his  own  admirers.  He 
was  not  going  to  let  his  prestige  slip  from  him  merely 
because  a  man  from  New  York  had  happened  along. 
He  could  not  pretend  to  know  that  city,  for  the 
stranger  would  quickly  detect  the  imposture,  and 
probably  expose  him ;  but  the  slightly  superior  air 
which  Yates  wore  irritated  him,  while  it  abashed  the 
others.  Even  Sandy  was  silent. 

"  I've  met  some  people  from  New  York  down 
East,"  he  said  in  an  off-hand  manner,  as  if,  after  all, 
a  man  might  meet  a  New-Yorker  and  still  not  sink 
into  the  ground. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         135 

"  Really  ?  "  said  Yates.     "  I  hope  you  liked  them." 

"  Oh,  so-so,"  replied  the  blacksmith  airily. 
"  There's  good  and  bad  among  them,  like  the  rest  of 
us." 

"  Ah,  you  noticed  that,"  said  Yates.  "  Well,  I've 
often  thought  the  same  myself.  It's  a  safe  remark 
to  make  ;  there  is  generally  no  disputing  it." 

The  condescending  air  of  the  New-Yorker  was 
maddening,  and  Macdonald  realised  that  he  was  los- 
ing ground.  The  quiet  insolence  of  Yates'  tone  was 
so  exasperating  to  the  blacksmith  that  he  saw  any 
language  at  his  disposal  was  inadequate  to  cope 
withit.  The  time  for  the  practical  joke  had  arrived. 
The  conceit  of  this  man  must  be  taken  down.  He 
would  try  Sandy's  method,  and,  if  that  failed,  it 
would  at  least  draw  attention  from  himself  to  his 
helper. 

"  Being  as  you're  from  New  York,  maybe  you  can 
decide  a  little  bet  Sandy  here  wants  to  have  with 
somebody." 

Sandy,  quick  to  take  the  hint,  picked  up  the  bar 
that  always  lay  near  enough  to  the  fire  to  be  uncom- 
fortably warm. 

"  How  much  do  you  reckon  that  weighs  ?  "  he 
said,  with  critical  nicety  estimating  its  ounces  in  his 
swaying  hand.  Sandy  had  never  done  it  better. 
There  was  a  look  of  perfect  innocence  on  his  bland, 
unsophisticated  countenance,  and  the  crowd  looked 
on  in  breathless  suspense. 

Bartlett  was  about  to  step  forward  and  save  his 
friend,  but  a  wicked  glare  from  Macdonald  restrained 


136        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

him  ;  besides,  his  sympathies  were  with  his  neigh- 
bours, and  not  with  the  stranger  he  had  brought 
among  them.  He  thought  resentfully  that  Yates 
might  have  been  less  high  and  mighty.  In  fact, 
when  he  asked  him  to  come  he  had  imagined  his 
brilliancy  would  be  instantly  popular,  and  would 
reflect  glory  on  himself.  Now  he  fancied  he  was 
included  in  the  general  scorn  Yates  took  such  little 
pains  to  conceal. 

Yates  glanced  at  the  piece  of  iron,  and,  without 
taking  his  hands  from  his  pockets,  said  carelessly : 

"  Oh,  I  should  imagine  it  weighed  a  couple  of 
pounds." 

"  Heft  it,"  said  Sandy  beseechingly,  holding  it  out 
to  him. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  replied  Yates  with  a  smile. 
"  Do  you  think  I  have  never  picked  up  a  hot  horse- 
shoe before  ?  If  you  are  anxious  to  know  its  weight, 
why  don't  you  take  it  over  to  the  grocery  store  and 
have  it  weighed?" 

"  'Tain't  hot,"  said  Sandy,  as  he  feebly  smiled  and 
flung  the  iron  back  on  the  forge.  "  If  it  was,  I 
couldn't  have  held  it  s'long." 

"  Oh,  no,"  returned  Yates,  with  a  grin,  "  of  course 
not.  I  don't  know  what  a  blacksmith's  hands  are, 
do  I  ?  Try  something  fresh." 

Macdonald  saw  there  was  no  triumph  over  him 
among  his  crowd,  for  they  all  considered  themselves 
as  much  involved  in  the  failure  of  Sandy's  trick  as 
he  did  himself ;  but  he  was  sure  that  in  future  some 
man,  hard  pushed  in  argument,  would  fling  the  New- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          137 

Yorker  at  him.  In  the  crisis  he  showed  the  instinct 
of  a  Napoleon. 

"  Well,  boys,"  he  cried,  "  fun's  fun,  but  I've  got 
to  work.  I  have  to  earn  my  living,  anyhow." 

Yates  enjoyed  his  victory ;  they  wouldn't  try 
"  getting  at  "  him  again,  he  said  to  himself. 

Macdonald  strode  to  the  forge  and  took  out  the 
bar  of  white-hot  iron.  He  gave  a  scarcely  percept- 
ible nod  to  Sandy,  who,  ever  ready  with  tobacco 
juice,  spat  with  great  directness  on  the  top  of  the 
anvil.  Macdonald  placed  the  hot  iron  on  the  spot, 
and  quickly  smote  it  a  stalwart  blow  with  the  heavy 
hammer.  The  result  was  appalling.  An  instanta- 
neous spreading  fan  of  apparently  molten  iron  lit  up 
the  place  as  if  a  flash  of  lightning  had  cleft  the 
sombre,  smoky  ceiling.  There  was  a  crash  like  the 
bursting  of  a  cannon.  The  shop  was  filled  for  a 
moment  with  a  shower  of  brilliant  sparks,  that  flew 
like  meteors  to  every  corner  of  the  place.  Everyone 
was  prepared  for  the  explosion  except  Yates.  He 
sprang  back  with  a  cry,  tripped,  and,  without  having 
time  to  get  the  use  of  his  hands  from  his  pockets  to 
ease  his  fall,  tumbled  and  rolled  to  the  horses'  heels. 
The  animals,  frightened  by  the  report,  stamped 
round ;  and  Yates  had  to  hustle  on  hands  and  knees 
to  safer  quarters,  exhibiting  more  celerity  than 
dignity.  The  blacksmith  never  smiled,  but  every- 
one else  roared.  The  reputation  of  the  country  was 
safe.  Sandy  doubled  himself  up  in  his  boisterous 
mirth. 

"  There's  no  one  like  the  old  man  !  "  he  shouted. 


138        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Oh,  lordy !  lordy !  He's  all  wool,  and  a  yard 
wide." 

Yates  picked  himself  up  and  dusted  himself  off, 
laughing  with  the  rest  of  them. 

"  If  I  ever  knew  that  trick  before,  I  had  forgotten 
it.  That's  one  on  me,  as  this  youth  in  spasms  said 
a  moment  ago.  Blacksmith,  shake!  I'll  treat  the 
crowd,  if  there's  a  place  handy." 


CHAPTER  XI 

PEOPLE  who  have  but  a  superficial  knowledge  of 
the  life  and  times  here  set  down  may  possibly  assert 
that  the  grocery  store,  and  not  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  used  to  be  the  real  country  club — the  place 
where  the  politics  of  the  country  were  discussed ; 
where  the  doings  of  great  men  were  commended  or 
condemned,  and  the  government  criticised.  It  is 
true  that  the  grocery  store  was  the  club  of  the  village, 
when  a  place  like  the  Corners  grew  to  be  a  village ; 
but  the  blacksmith's  shop  was  usually  the  first  build- 
ing erected  on  the  spot  where  a  village  was  ulti- 
mately to  stand.  It  was  the  nucleus.  As  a  place 
grew,  and  enervating  luxury  set  in,  the  grocery 
store  slowly  supplanted  the  blacksmith's  shop,  be- 
cause people  found  a  nail  keg,  or  a  box  of  crackers, 
more  comfortable  to  sit  on  than  the  limited  seats  at 
their  disposal  in  a  smithy  ;  moreover,  in  winter  the 
store,  with  its  red-hot  box-stove,  was  a  place  of 
warmth  and  joy,  but  the  revelling  in  such  an  at- 
mosphere of  enjoyment  meant  that  the  members  of 
the  club  had  to  live  close  at  hand,  for  no  man  would 
brave  the  storms  of  a  Canadian  winter  night,  and 
journey  a  mile  or  two  through  the  snow,  to  enjoy 

139 


140         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

even  the  pleasures  of  the  store.  So  the  grocery 
was  essentially  a  village  club,  and  not  a  rural 
club. 

Of  course,  as  civilisation  advanced,  the  blacksmith 
found  it  impossible  to  compete  with  the  grocer. 
He  could  not  offer  the  same  inducements.  The 
grocery  approached  more  nearly  than  the  smithy  the 
grateful  epicurism  of  the  Athenaeum,  the  Reform, 
or  the  Carlton.  It  catered  to  the  appetite  of  man, 
besides  supplying  him  with  the  intellectual  stimulus 
of  debate.  A  box  of  soda  crackers  was  generally 
open,  and,  although  such  biscuits  were  always  dry, 
they  were  good  to  munch,  if  consumed  slowly.  The 
barrel  of  hazel-nuts  never  had  a  lid  on.  The  raisins, 
in  their  square  box,  with  blue-tinted  paper,  setting 
forth  the  word  "  Malaga  "  under  the  coloured  pic- 
ture of  joyous  Spanish  grape-pickers,  stood  on  the 
shelves  behind  the  counter,  at  an  angle  suited  to 
display  the  contents  to  all  comers,  requiring  an  ex- 
ceptionally long  reach,  and  more  than  an  ordinary 
amount  of  cheek,  before  they  were  got  at ;  but  the 
barrel  of  Muscavado  brown  sugar  was  where  any- 
one could  dip  his  hand  in ;  while  the  man  on  the 
keg  of  tenpenny  nails  might  extend  his  arm  over 
into  the  display  window,  where  the  highly  coloured 
candies  exhibited  themselves,  although  the  person 
who  meddled  often  with  them  was  frowned  upon, 
for  it  was  etiquette  in  the  club  not  to  purloin  things 
which  were  expensive.  The  grocer  himself  drew 
the  line  at  the  candies,  and  a  second  helping  usually 
brought  forth  the  mild  reproof : 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         141 

"  Shall  I  charge  that,  Sam  ;  or  would  you  rather 
pay  for  it  now  ?  " 

All  these  delicacies  were  taken  in  a  somewhat 
surreptitious  way,  and  the  takers  generally  wore  an 
absent-minded  look,  as  if  the  purloining  was  not 
quite  intentional  on  their  part.  But  they  were  all 
good  customers  of  the  grocer,  and  the  abstractions 
were  doubtless  looked  on  by  him  as  being  in  the 
way  of  trade  ;  just  as  the  giving  of  a  present  with  a 
pound  of  tea,  or  a  watch  with  a  suit  of  clothes,  be- 
came in  later  days.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he  never 
said  anything  unless  his  generosity  was  taken  ad- 
vantage of,  which  was  rarely  the  case. 

Very  often  on  winter  nights  there  was  a  hilarious 
feast,  that  helped  to  lighten  the  shelves  and  burden 
the  till.  This  ordinarily  took  the  form  of  a  splurge 
in  cove  oysters.  Cove  oysters,  of  course,  came  from 
Baltimore  in  round  tins  ;  they  were  introduced  into 
Canada  long  before  the  square  tin  boxes  that  now 
come  in  winter  from  the  same  bivalvular  city.  Cove 
oysters  were  partly  cooked  before  being  tinned,  so 
that  they  would,  as  the  advertisements  say,  keep  in 
any  climate.  They  did  not  require  ice  around  them, 
as  do  the  square  tins  which  now  contain  the  raw 
oysters.  Someone  present  would  say  : 

"  What's  the  matter  with  having  a  feed  of  cove 
oysters?  " 

He  then  collected  a  subscription  of  ten  cents  or  so 
from  each  member,  and  the  whole  was  expended  in 
several  cans  of  oysters  and  a  few  pounds  of  crackers. 
The  cooking  was  done  in  a  tin  basin  on  the  top 


I42         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

of  the  hot  stove.  The  contents  of  the  cans  were 
emptied  into  this  handy  dish,  milk  was  added,  and 
broken  crackers,  to  give  thickness  and  consistency  to 
the  result.  There  were  always  plenty  of  plates,  for 
the  store  supplied  the  crockery  of  the  neighbourhood. 
There  were  also  plenty  of  spoons,  for  everything  was 
to  be  had  at  the  grocery.  What  more  could  the 
most  exacting  man  need  ?  On  a  particularly  reckless 
night  the  feast  ended  with  several  tins  of  peaches, 
which  needed  no  cooking,  but  only  a  sprinkling  of 
sugar.  The  grocer  was  always  an  expert  at  cooking 
cove  oysters  and  at  opening  tins  of  peaches. 

There  was  a  general  feeling  among  the  members 
that,  by  indulging  in  these  banquets,  they  were  going 
the  pace  rather ;  and  some  of  the  older  heads  feebly 
protested  against  the  indulgence  of  the  times,  but  it 
was  noticed  that  they  never  refrained  from  doing 
their  share  when  it  came  to  spoon  work. 

"  A  man  has  but  one  life  to  live,"  the  younger 
and  more  reckless  would  say,  as  if  that  excused  the 
extravagance ;  for  a  member  rarely  got  away  with- 
out  being  fifteen  cents  out  of  pocket,  especially  when 
they  had  peaches  as  well  as  oysters. 

The  grocery  at  the  Corners  had  been  but  recently 
established  and  as  yet  the  blacksmith's  shop  had  not 
looked  upon  it  as  a  rival.  Macdonald  was  monarch 
of  all  he  surveyed,  and  his  shop  was  the  favourite 
gathering  place  for  miles  around.  The  smithy  was 
also  the  patriotic  centre  of  the  district,  as  a  black- 
smith's shop  must  be  as  long  as  anvils  can  take  the 
place  of  cannon  for  saluting  purposes.  On  the  24th 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         143 

of  May,  the  Queen's  birthday,  celebrated  locally  as 
the  only  day  in  the  year,  except  Sundays,  when 
Macdonald's  face  was  clean  and  when  he  did  no 
work,  the  firing  of  the  anvils  aroused  the  echoes  of 
the  locality.  On  that  great  day  the  grocer  supplied 
the  powder,  which  was  worth  three  York  shillings 
a  pound — a  York  shilling  being  twelve  and  a  half 
cents.  It  took  two  men  to  carry  an  anvil,  with  a 
good  deal  of  grunting  ;  but  Macdonald,  if  the  crowd 
were  big  enough,  made  nothing  of  picking  it  up, 
hoisting  it  on  his  shoulder,  and  flinging  it  down  on 
the  green  in  front  of  his  shop.  In  the  iron  mass 
there  is  a  square  hole,  and  when  the  anvil  was  placed 
upside  down,  the  hole  was  uppermost.  It  was  filled 
with  powder,  and  a  wooden  plug,  with  a  notch  cut 
in  it,  was  pounded  in  with  a  sledge  hammer.  Powder 
was  sprinkled  from  the  notch  over  the  surface  of  the 
anvil,  and  then  the  crowd  stood  back  and  held  its 
breath.  It  was  a  most  exciting  moment.  Macdonald 
would  come  running  out  of  the  shop  bareheaded, 
holding  a  long  iron  bar,  the  wavering,  red-hot  end 
of  which  descended  on  the  anvil,  while  the  black- 
smith shouted  in  a  terrifying  voice:  "Look  out, 
there!"  The  loose  powder  hissed  and  spat  for  a 
moment,  then  bang  went  the  cannon,  and  a  great 
cloud  of  smoke  rolled  upward,  while  the  rousing 
cheers  came  echoing  back  from  the  surrounding 
forests.  The  helper,  with  the  powder  horn,  would 
spring  to  the  anvil  and  pour  the  black  explosive  into 
the  hole,  while  another  stood  ready  with  plug  and 
hammer.  The  delicious  scent  of  burned  gunpowder 


144         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

filled  the  air,  and  was  inhaled  by  all  the  youngsters 
with  satisfaction,  for  now  they  realised  what  actual 
war  was.  Thus  the  salutes  were  fired,  and  thus  the 
royal  birthday  was  fittingly  celebrated. 

Where  two  anvils  were  to  be  had,  the  cannonade 
was  much  brisker,  as  then  a  plug  was  not  needed. 
The  hole  in  the  lower  anvil  was  filled  with  powder, 
and  the  other  anvil  was  placed  over  it.  This  was 
much  quicker  than  pounding  in  a  plug,  and  had 
quite  as  striking  and  detonating  an  effect.  The  upper 
anvil  gave  a  heave,  like  Mark  Twain's  shot-laden 
frog,  and  fell  over  on  its  side.  The  smoke  rolled  up 
as  usual,  and  the  report  was  equally  gratifying. 

Yates  learned  all  these  things  as  he  sat  in  the 
blacksmith's  shop,  for  they  were  still  in  the  month 
of  May,  and  the  smoke  of  the  echoing  anvils  had 
hardly  yet  cleared  away.  All  present  were  eager  to 
tell  him  of  the  glory  of  the  day.  One  or  two  were 
good  enough  to  express  regret  that  he  had  not  been 
there  to  see.  After  the  disaster  which  had  over- 
turned  Yates  things  had  gone  on  very  smoothly,  and 
he  had  become  one  of  the  crowd,  as  it  were.  The 
fact  that  he  was  originally  a  Canadian  told  in  his 
favour,  although  he  had  been  contaminated  by  long 
residence  in  the  States. 

Macdonald  worked  hard  at  the  turning  of  horse- 
shoes from  long  rods  of  iron.  Usually  an  extended 
line  of  unfinished  shoes  bestrode  a  blackened  scant- 
ling, like  bodiless  horsemen,  the  scantling  crossing 
the  shop  overhead,  just  under  the  roof.  These  were 
the  work  of  Macdonald's  comparatively  leisure  days, 


145 

and  they  were  ready  to  be  fitted  to  the  hoofs  of  any 
horse  that  came  to  be  shod,  but  on  this  occasion 
there  had  been  such  a  run  on  his  stock  that  it  was 
exhausted,  a  depletion  the  smith  seemed  to  regard 
as  a  reproach  on  himself,  for  he  told  Yates  several 
times  that  he  often  had  as  many  as  three  dozen  shoes 
up  aloft  for  a  rainy  day. 

When  the  sledge-hammer  work  was  to  be  done, 
one  of  those  present  stepped  forward  and  swung  the 
heavy  sledge,  keeping  stroke  for  stroke  with  Mac- 
donald's  one-handed  hammer,  all  of  which  required 
a  nice  ear  for  time.  This  assistance  was  supposed 
to  be  rendered  by  Sandy ;  but,  as  he  remarked,  he 
was  no  hog,  and  anyone  who  wished  to  show  his 
skill  was  at  liberty  to  do  so.  Sandy  seemed  to 
spend  most  of  his  time  at  the  bellows,  and  when  he 
was  not  echoing  the  sentiments  of  the  boss,  as  he 
called  him,  he  was  commending  the  expertness  of 
the/r0  tern,  amateur,  the  wielder  of  the  sledge.  It 
was  fun  to  the  amateur,  and  it  was  an  old  thing  with 
Sandy,  so  he  never  protested  against  this  interference 
with  his  duty,  believing  in  giving  everyone  a  chance, 
especially  when  it  came  to  swinging  a  heavy  ham- 
mer. The  whole  scene  brought  back  to  Yates  the 
days  of  his  youth,  especially  when  Macdonald,  put- 
ting the  finishing  strokes  to  his  shoe,  let  his  hammer 
periodically  tinkle  with  musical  clangour  on  the  anvil, 
ringing  forth  a  tintinnabulation  that  chimed  melodi- 
ously on  the  ear — a  sort  of  anvil-chorus  accompani- 
ment to  his  mechanical  skill.  He  was  a  real  sleight- 
of-hand  man,  and  the  anvil  was  his  orchestra. 
10 


146         IN  THE-  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Yates  soon  began  to  enjoy  his  visit  to  the  rural 
club.  As  the  members  thawed  out  he  found  them 
all  first-rate  fellows,  and,  what  was  more,  they  were 
appreciative  listeners.  His  stories  were  all  evidently 
new  to  them,  and  nothing  puts  a  man  into  a  genial 
frame  of  mind  so  quickly  as  an  attentive,  sympa- 
thetic audience.  Few  men  could  tell  a  story  better 
than  Yates,  but  he  needed  the  responsive  touch  of  in- 
terested hearers.  He  hated  to  have  to  explain  the 
points  of  his  anecdotes,  as,  indeed,  what  story-teller 
does  not  ?  A  cold  and  critical  man  like  the  professor 
froze  the  spring  of  narration  at  its  source.  Besides, 
Renmark  had  an  objectionable  habit  of  tracing  the 
recital  to  its  origin  ;  it  annoyed  Yates  to  tell  a  modern 
yarn,  and  then  discover  that  Aristophanes,  or  some 
other  prehistoric  poacher  on  the  good  things  men 
were  to  say,  had  forestalled  him  by  a  thousand 
years  or  so.  If  a  man  is  quick  to  see  the  point 
of  your  stories,  and  laughs  heartily  at  them,  you 
are  apt  to  form  a  high  opinion  of  his  good  sense, 
and  to  value  his  companionship. 

When  the  horses  were  shod,  and  young  Bartlett, 
who  was  delighted  at  the  impression  Yates  had  made, 
was  preparing  to  go,  the  whole  company  protested 
against  the  New-Yorker's  departure.  This  was  real 
flattery. 

"  What's  your  hurry,  Bartlett  ?  "  asked  the  whit- 
tier.  "  You  can't  do  anything  this  afternoon,  if  you 
do  go  home.  It's  a  poor  time  this  to  mend  a  bad 
day's  work.  If  you  stay,  he'll  stay  ;  won't  you,  Mr. 
Yates  ?  Macdonald  is  going  to  set  tires,  and  he 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         147 

needs  us  all  to  look  on  and  see  that  he  does  it  right ; 
don't  you,  Mac  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  get  a  lot  of  help  from  you  while  there's  a 
stick  to  whittle,"  replied  the  smith. 

"  Then  there's  the  protracted  meeting  to-night  at 
the  schoolhouse,"  put  in  another,  anxious  that  all  the 
attractions  of  the  place  should  be  brought  forward. 

"That's  so,"  said  the  whittler;  "I  had  forgotten 
about  that.  It's  the  first  night,  so  we  must  all  be 
there  to  encourage  old  Benderson.  You'll  be  on 
hand  to-night,  won't  you,  Macdonald  ?  " 

The  blacksmith  made  no  answer,  but  turned  to 

Sandy  and  asked  him  savagely  what  in and 

nation  he  was  standing  gawking  there  for.  Why 
didn't  he  go  outside  and  get  things  ready  for  the 
tire  setting?  What  in  thunder  was  he  paying  him 
for,  anyhow?  Wasn't  there  enough  loafers  round, 
without  him  joining  the  ranks  ? 

Sandy  took  this  rating  with  equanimity,  and,  when 
the  smith's  back  was  turned,  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, took  afresh  bite  of  tobacco  from  the  plug  which 
he  drew  from  his  hip  pocket,  winking  at  the  others 
as  he  did  so.  He  leisurely  followed  Macdonald  out 
of  the  shop,  saying  in  a  whisper  as  he  passed  the 
whittler : 

"  I  wouldn't  rile  the  old  man,  if  I  were  you." 

The  club  then  adjourned  to  the  outside,  all  except 
those  who  sat  on  the  bench.  Yates  asked  : 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Macdonald  ?  Doesn't 
he  like  protracted  meetings?  And,  by  the  way, 
what  are  protracted  meetings  ?  " 


148         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  They're  revival  meetings — religious  meetings, 
you  know,  for  converting  sinners." 

"  Really  ?  "  said  Yates.  "  But  why  protracted  ? 
Are  they  kept  on  for  a  week  or  two  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  suppose  that's  why,  although,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  never  knew  the  reason  for  the  name.  Pro- 
tracted meetings  always  stood  for  just  the  same 
thing  ever  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  we  took  it  as  mean- 
ing that  one  thing,  without  thinking  why." 

"  And  doesn't  Macdonald  like  them  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  it's  like  this  :  He  never  wants  to 
go  to  a  protracted  meeting,  yet  he  can't  keep  away. 
He's  like  a  drunkard  and  the  corner  tavern.  He 
can't  pass  it,  and  he  knows  if  he  goes  in  he  will  fall. 
Macdonald's  always  the  first  one  to  go  up  to  the 
penitent  bench.  They  rake  him  in  every  time.  He 
has  religion  real  bad  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  then 
he  backslides.  He  doesn't  seem  able  to  stand  either 
the  converting  or  the  backsliding.  I  suppose  some 
time  they  will  gather  him  in  finally,  and  he  will  stick 
and  become  a  class  leader,  but  he  hasn't  stuck  up  to 
date." 

"  Then  he  doesn't  like  to  hear  the  subject  spoken 
of?" 

"  You  bet  he  don't.  It  isn't  safe  to  twit  him  about 
it  either.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  pleased  when  I 
heard  him  swear  at  Sandy ;  then  I  knew  it  was  all 
right,  and  Sandy  can  stand  it.  Macdonald  is  a  bad 
man  to  tackle  when  he's  mad.  There's  nobody  in 
this  district  can  handle  him.  I'd  sooner  get  a  blow 
from  a  sledge-hammer  than  meet  Mac's  fist  when  his 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         149 

dander  is  up.  But  so  long  as  he  swears  it's  all  right. 
Say,  you'll  stay  down  for  the  meeting,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  will.  I'll  see  what  young  Bartlett  in- 
tends to  do.  It  isn't  very  far  to  walk,  in  any  case." 

"  There  will  be  lots  of  nice  girls  going  your  way 
to-night  after  the  meeting.  I  don't  know  but  I'll  jog 
along  in  that  direction  myself  when  it's  over.  That's 
the  principal  use  I  have  for  the  meetings,  anyhow." 

The  whittler  and  Yates  got  down  from  the  bench, 
and  joined  the  crowd  outside.  Young  Bartlett  sat 
on  one  of  the  horses,  loath  to  leave  while  the  tire 
setting  was  going  on. 

"  Are  you  coming,  Yates  ? "  he  shouted,  as  his 
comrade  appeared. 

"  I  think  I'll  stay  for  the  meeting,"  said  Yates, 
approaching  him  and  patting  the  horse.  He  had  no 
desire  to  mount  and  ride  away  in  the  presence  of 
that  critical  assemblage. 

"  All  right,"  said  young  Bartlett.  "  I  guess  I'll  be 
down  at  the  meeting,  too  ;  then  I  can  show  you  the 
way  home." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Yates ;  "  I'll  be  on  the  lookout  for 
you." 

Young  Bartlett  galloped  away,  and  was  soon  lost 
to  sight  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  The  others  had  also  de- 
parted with  their  shod  horses  ;  but  there  were  several 
new  arrivals,  and  the  company  was  augmented  rather 
than  diminished.  They  sat  round  on  the  fence,  or 
on  the  logs  dumped  down  by  the  wayside. 

Few  smoked,  but  many  chewed  tobacco.  It  was 
a  convenient  way  of  using  the  weed,  and  required  no 


matches,  besides  being  safer  for  men  who  had  to  fre- 
quent inflammable  barns. 

A  circular  fire  burnt  in  front  of  the  shop,  oak 
bark  being  the  main  fuel  used.  Iron  waggon  tires  lay 
hidden  in  this  burning  circle.  Macdonald  and  Sandy 
bustled  about  making  preparations,  their  faces,  more 
hideous  in  the  bright  sunlight  than  in  the  compara- 
tive obscurity  of  the  shop,  giving  them  the  appear- 
ance of  two  evil  spirits  about  to  attend  some  incan- 
tation scene  of  which  the  circular  fire  was  the  visible 
indication.  Crosstrees,  of  four  pieces  of  squared 
timber,  lay  near  the  fire,  with  a  tireless  wheel  placed 
flat  upon  them,  the  hub  in  the  square  hole  at  the 
centre.  Shiftless  farmers  always  resisted  having 
tires  set  until  they  would  no  longer  stay  on  the 
wheel.  The  inevitable  day  was  postponed,  time  and 
again,  by  a  soaking  of  the  wheels  overnight  in  some 
convenient  puddle  of  water  ;  but  as  the  warmer  and 
dryer  weather  approached,  this  device,  supplemented 
by  wooden  wedges,  no  longer  sufficed,  and  the  tires 
had  to  be  set  for  summer  work.  Frequently  the  tire 
rolled  off  on  the  sandy  highway,  and  the  farmer  was 
reluctantly  compelled  to  borrow  a  rail  from  the  near- 
est fence,  and  place  it  so  as  to  support  the  axle  ;  he 
then  put  the  denuded  wheel  and  its  tire  on  the 
waggon,  and  drove  slowly  to  the  nearest  blacksmith's 
shop,  his  vehicle  "  trailing  like  a  wounded  duck," 
the  rail  leaving  a  snake's  track  behind  it  on  the 
dusty  road. 

The  blacksmith  had  previously  cut  and  welded 
the  tire,  reducing  its  circumference,  and  when  it  was 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         151 

hot  enough,  he  and  Sandy,  each  with  a  pair  of 
tongs,  lifted  it  from  the  red-hot  circle  of  fire.  It 
was  pressed  and  hammered  down  on  the  blazing  rim 
of  the  wheel,  and  instantly  Sandy  and  Macdonald, 
with  two  pails  of  water  that  stood  handy,  poured  the 
cold  liquid  around  the  red-hot  zone,  enveloping 
themselves  in  clouds  of  steam,  the  quick  contraction 
clamping  the  iron  on  the  wood  until  the  joints 
cracked  together.  There  could  be  no  loitering;  quick 
work  was  necessary,  or  a  spoiled  wheel  was  the 
result.  Macdonald,  alternately  spluttering  through 
fire  and  steam,  was  in  his  element.  Even  Sandy 
had  to  be  on  the  keen  jump,  without  a  moment  to 
call  his  plug  of  tobacco  his  own.  Macdonald  fussed 
and  fussed,  but  got  through  an  immense  amount  of 
work  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  cursing 
Sandy  pretty  much  all  the  while ;  yet  that  useful 
man  never  replied  in  kind,  contenting  himself  with 
a  wink  at  the  crowd  when  he  got  the  chance,  and 
saying  under  his  breath  ; 

"The  old  man's  in  great  fettle  to-day." 
Thus  everybody  enjoyed  himself :  Macdonald,  be- 
cause he  was  the  centre  figure  in  a  saturnalia  of  work ; 
Sandy,  because  no  matter  how  hard  a  man  has  to 
work  he  can  chew  tobacco  all  the  time ;  the  crowd, 
because  the  spectacle  of  fire,  water,  and  steam  was 
fine,  and  they  didn't  have  to  do  anything  but  sit 
round  and  look  on.  The  sun  got  lower  and  lower 
as,  one  by  one,  the  spectators  departed  to  do  their 
chores,  and  prepare  for  the  evening  meeting.  Yates 
at  the  invitation  of  the  whittler  went  home  with 
him,  and  thoroughly  relished  his  evening  meal. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MARGARET  had  never  met  any  man  but  her 
father  who  was  so  fond  of  books  as  Professor  Ren- 
mark.  The  young  fellows  of  her  acquaintance  read 
scarcely  anything  but  the  weekly  papers ;  they  went 
with  some  care  through  the  yellow  almanac  that 
was  given  away  free,  with  the  grocer's  name  printed 
on  the  back.  The  marvellous  cures  the  almanac 
recorded  were  of  little  interest,  and  were  chiefly 
read  by  the  older  folk,  but  the  young  men  revelled  in 
the  jokes  to  be  found  at  the  bottom  of  every  page, 
their  only  drawback  being  that  one  could  never  tell 
the  stories  at  a  paring-bee  or  other  social  gathering, 
because  every  one  in  the  company  had  read  them. 
A  few  of  the  young  men  came  sheepishly  round  to 
get  a  book  out  of  the  library,  but  it  was  evident 
that  their  interest  was  not  so  much  in  the  volume,  as 
in  the  librarian,  and  when  that  fact  became  apparent 
to  the  girl,  she  resented  it.  Margaret  was  thought 
to  be  cold  and  proud  by  the  youth  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, or  "  stuck-up,"  as  they  expressed  it. 

To  such  a  girl  a  man  like  Renmark  was  a  revela- 
tion. He  could  talk  of  other  things  than  the 
weather,  live  stock,  and  the  prospects  for  the  crops. 
The  conversation  at  first  did  not  include  Margaret, 
152 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          153 

but  she  listened  to  every  word  of  it  with  interest. 
Her  father  and  mother  were  anxious  to  hear  about 
their  boy;  and  from  that  engrossing  subject  the 
talk  soon  drifted  to  university  life,  and  the  differences 
between  city  and  country.  At  last  the  farmer,  with 
a  sigh,  arose  to  go.  There  is  little  time  for  pleasant 
talk  on  a  farm  while  daylight  lasts.  Margaret 
remembering  her  duties  as  librarian,  began  to  take  in 
the  books  from  the  waggon  to  the  front  room. 
Renmark,  slow  in  most  things,  was  quick  enough  to 
offer  his  assistance  on  this  occasion  ;  but  he  reddened 
somewhat  as  he  did  so,  for  he  was  unused  to  being 
a  squire  of  dames. 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  do  the  porterage,  he 
said.  "  I  would  like  to  earn  the  right  to  look  at  these 
books  sometimes,  even  though  I  may  not  have  the 
privilege  of  borrowing,  not  being  a  taxable  resident 
of  the  township." 

"  The  librarian,"  answered  Margaret  with  a  smile, 
seems  to  be  at  liberty  to  use  her  own  discretion  in 
the  matter  of  lending.  No  one  has  authority  to 
look-over  her  accounts,  or  to  censure  her  if  she  lends 
recklessly.  So,  if  you  wish  to  borrow  books,  all 
you  have  to  do  is  to  ask  for  them." 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  avail  myself  of  the  per- 
mission. But  my  conscience  would  be  easier  if  I  am 
allowed  to  carry  them  in." 

"  You  will  be  permitted  to  help.  I  like  carrying 
them.  There  is  no  more  delicious  armful  than 
books." 

As  Renmark  looked   at   the  lovely  girl,  her  face 


154         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

radiant  with  enthusiasm,  the  disconcerting  thought 
came  suddenly  that  perhaps  her  statement  might 
not  be  accurate.  No  such  thought  had  ever  sug- 
gested itself  to  him  before,  and  it  now  filled  him 
with  guilty  confusion.  He  met  the  clear,  honest 
gaze  of  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  then  he  stammered 
lamely : 

"  I — I  too   am  very  fond  of  books." 

Together  they  carried  in  the  several  hundred 
volumes,  and  then  began  to  arrange  them. 

"  Have  you  no  catalogue  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No.  We  never  seem  to  need  one.  People  come 
and  look  over  the  library,  and  take  out  whatever 
books  they  fancy." 

"  Yes,  but  still  every  library  ought  to  be  cata- 
logued. Cataloguing  is  an  art  in  itself.  I  have 
paid  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  it,  and  will  show 
you  how  it  is  done,  if  you  care  to  know." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  would." 

"  How  do  you  keep  a  record  of  the  volumes  that 
are  out  ?  " 

"  I  just  write  the  name  of  the  person,  the  title,  and 
the  date  in  this  blank  book.  When  the  volume  is 
returned,  I  score  out  the  record." 

"  I  see,"  said  Renmark  dubiously. 

"  That  isn't  right,  is  it  ?     Is  there  a  better  way  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  a  small  library,  that  ought  to  do  ;  but 
if  you  were  handling  many  books,  I  think  confusion 
might  result." 

"  Do  tell  me  the  right  way.  I  should  like  to 
know,  even  if  it  is  a  small  library." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         155 

"  There  are  several  methods,  but  I  am  by  no  means 
sure  your  way  is  not  the  simplest,  and  therefore  the 
best  in  this  instance." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  be  put  off  like  that,"  said  Mar- 
garet, laughing.  "  A  collection  of  books  is  a  collec- 
tion of  books,  whether  large  or  small,  and  deserves 
respect  and  the  best  of  treatment.  Now,  what 
method  is  used  in  large  libraries?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  suggest  a  system  of  cards,  though 
slips  of  paper  would  do.  When  any  person  wants  to 
take  out  a  book,  let  him  make  out  a  card,  giving  the 
date  and  the  name  or  number  of  the  book ;  he  then 
must  sign  the  card,  and  there  you  are.  He  cannot 
deny  having  had  the  book,  for  you  have  his  own 
signature  to  prove  it.  The  slips  are  arranged  in  a 
box  according  to  dates,  and  when  a  book  is  returned, 
you  tear  up  the  recording  paper." 

"  I  think  that  is  a  very  good  way,  and  I  will  adopt 
it." 

"  Then  let  me  send  to  Toronto  and  get  you  a  few 
hundred  cards.  We'll  have  them  here  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  put  you  to  that  trouble." 

"  It  is  no  trouble  at  all.  Now,  that  is  settled,  let 
us  attack  the  catalogue.  Have  you  a  blank  book 
anywhere  about  ?  We  will  first  make  an  alphabeti- 
cal list ;  then  we  will  arrange  them  under  the  heads 
of  history,  biography,  fiction,  and  so  on." 

Simple  as  it  appeared,  the  making  of  a  catalogue 
took  a  long  time.  Both  were  absorbed  in  their 
occupation.  Cataloguing  in  itself  is  a  straight  and 


156        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

narrow  path,  but  in  this  instance  there  were  so  many 
delightful  side  excursions  that  rapid  progress  could 
not  be  expected.  To  a  reader  the  mere  mention  of 
a  book  brings  up  recollections.  Margaret  was  read- 
ing out  the  names ;  Renmark,  on  slips  of  paper,  each 
with  a  letter  on  it,  was  writing  them  down. 

"  Oh,  have  you  that  book  ?  "  he  would  say,  look- 
ing up  as  a  title  was  mentioned.  "  Have  you  ever 
read  it?" 

"  No ;  for,  you  see,  this  part  of  the  library  is  all 
new  to  me.  Why,  here  is  one  of  which  the  leaves 
are  not  even  cut.  No  one  has  read  it.  Is  it  good  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  best,"  Renmark  would  say,  taking  the 
volume.  "  Yes,  I  know  this  edition.  Let  me  read 
you  one  passage." 

And  Margaret  would  sit  in  the  rocking-chair,  while 
he  cut  the  leaves  and  found  the  place.  One  extract 
was  sure  to  suggest  another,  and  time  passed  before 
the  title  of  the  book  found  its  way  to  the  proper  slip 
of  paper.  These  excursions  into  literature  were 
most  interesting  to  both  excursionists,  but  they  in- 
terfered with  cataloguing.  Renmark  read  and  read, 
ever  and  anon  stopping  to  explain  some  point,  or 
quote  what  some  one  else  had  said  on  the  same 
subject,  marking  the  place  in  the  book,  as  he  paused, 
with  inserted  fore-finger.  Margaret  swayed  back  and 
forth  in  the  comfortable  rocking-chair,  and  listened 
intently,  her  large  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  him  so  earn- 
estly that  now  and  then,  when  he  met  them,  he 
seemed  disconcerted  for  a  moment.  But  the  girl  did 
not  notice  this.  At  the  end  of  one  of  his  disserta- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         157 

tions  she  leaned  her  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  chair, 
with  her  cheek  resting  against  her  hand,  and  said  : 

"  How  very  clear  you  make  everything,  Mr.  Ren- 
mark." 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  he  said  with  a  smile.  "  It's 
my  business,  you  know." 

"  I  think  it's  a  shame  that  girls  are  not  allowed  to 
go  to  the  university  ;  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Really,  I  never  gave  any  thought  to  the  subject, 
and  I  am  not  quite  prepared  to  say." 

"  Well,  I  think  it  most  unfair.  The  university  is 
supported  by  the  Government,  is  it  not  ?  Then  why 
should  half  of  the  population  be  shut  out  from  its 
advantages  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't  do,  you  know." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  There  are  many  reasons,"  he  replied  evasively. 

"What  are  they?     Do  you  think  girls  could  not 

learn,  or  are  not  as  capable  of  hard  study  as  well 
»> 

"  It  isn't  that,"  he  interrupted ;  "  there  are  plenty 
of  girls'  schools  in  the  country,  you  know.  Some 
very  good  ones  in  Toronto  itself,  for  that  matter." 

"  Yes ;  but  why  shouldn't  I  go  to  the  university 
with  my  brother  ?  There  are  plenty  of  boys'  schools, 
too,  but  the  university  is  the  university.  I  suppose 
my  father  helps  to  support  it.  Why,  then,  should 
one  child  be  allowed  to  attend  and  the  other  not  ? 
It  isn't  at  all  just." 

"  It  wouldn't  do,"  said  the  professor  more  firmly, 
the  more  he  thought  about  it. 


158         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Would  you  take  that  as  a  satisfying  reason  from 
one  of  your  students? 

"What?" 

"  The  phrase,  '  It  wouldn't  do.'  " 

Renmark  laughed. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  he  said ;  "  but,  then,  I'm  very 
exacting  in  class.  Now,  if  you  want  to  know,  why 
do  you  not  ask  your  father?  " 

"  Father  and  I  have  discussed  the  question  often, 
and  he  quite  agrees  with  me  in  thinking  it  unfair." 

"  Oh,  does  he  ? "  said  Renmark,  taken  aback ; 
although,  when  he  reflected,  he  realised  that  the 
father  doubtless  knew  as  little  about  the  dangers  of 
the  city  as  the  daughter  did. 

"And  what  does  your  mother  say?" 

"  Oh,  mother  thinks  if  a  girl  is  a  good  housekeeper 
it  is  all  that  is  required.  So  you  will  have  to  give 
me  a  good  reason,  if  there  is  one,  for  nobody  else  in 
this  house  argues  on  your  side  of  the  question." 

"  Well,"  said  Renmark  in  an  embarrassed  manner, 
"  if  you  don't  know  by  the  time  you  are  twenty-five, 
I'll  promise  to  discuss  the  whole  subject  with  you." 

Margaret  sighed  as  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair. 

"  Twenty-five  ?"  she  cried,  adding  with  the  uncon- 
scious veracity  of  youth  :  "  That  will  be  seven  years 
to  wait.  Thank  you,  but  I  think  I'll  find  out  before 
that  time." 

"  I  think  you  will,"  Renmark  answered. 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  sudden  and  unan- 
nounced entrance  of  her  brother. 

"  Hello,  you  two  !  "  he  shouted  with   the  rude 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          159 

familiarity  of  a  boy.  "  It  seems  the  library  takes  a 
longer  time  to  arrange  than  usual." 

Margaret  rose  with  dignity. 

"  We  are  cataloguing,"  she  said  severely. 

"  Oh,  that's  what  you  call  it,  is  it  ?  Can  I  be  of 
any  assistance,  or  is  two  company  when  they're 
cataloguing?  Have  you  any  idea  what  time  it  is?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  must  be  off,"  said  the  professor, 
rising.  "  My  companion  in  camp  won't  know  what 
has  become  of  me." 

"  Oh,  he's  all  right !  "  said  Henry.  "  He's  down 
at  the  Corners,  and  is  going  to  stay  there  for  the 
meeting  to-night.  Young  Bartlett  passed  a  while 
ago  ;  he  was  getting  the  horses  shod,  and  your  friend 
went  with  him.  I  guess  Yates  can  take  care  of  him- 
self, Mr.  Renmark.  Say,  sis,  will  you  go  to  the  meet- 
ing ?  I'm  going.  Young  Bartlett's  going,  and  so  is 
Kitty.  Won't  you  come,  too,  Mr.  Renmark?  It's 
great  fun." 

"  Don't  talk  like  that  about  a  religious  gathering, 
Henry,"  said  his  sister,  frowning. 

"  Well,  that's  what  it  is,  anyhow." 

"Is  it  a  prayer  meeting ?"  asked  the  professor, 
looking  at  the  girl. 

"  You  bet  it  is !  "  cried  Henry  enthusiastically, 
giving  no  one  a  chance  to  speak  but  himself.  "It's 
a  prayer  meeting,  and  every  other  kind  of  meeting 
rolled  into  one.  It's  a  revival  meeting  ;  a  protracted 
meeting,  that's  what  it  is.  You  had  better  come 
with  us,  Mr.  Renmark,  and  then  you  can  see  what  it 
is  like.  You  can  walk  home  with  Yates," 


160        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

This  attractive  denouement  did  not  seem  to  appeal 
so  strongly  to  the  professor  as  the  boy  expected,  for 
he  made  no  answer. 

"  You  will  come,  sis ;  won't  you  ?  "  urged  the  boy. 

"Are  you  sure  Kitty  is  going?  " 

"  Of  course  she  is.  You  don't  think  she'd  miss  it, 
do  you  ?  They'll  soon  be  here,  too ;  better  go  and 
get  ready." 

"  I'll  see  what  mother  says,"  replied  Margaret  as 
she  left  the  room.  She  shortly  returned,  dressed 
ready  for  the  meeting,  and  the  professor  concluded 
he  would  go  also. 


CHAPTER   XIIi 

ANYONE  passing  the  Corners  that  evening  would 
have  seen  at  once  that  something  important  was  on. 
Vehicles  of  all  kinds  lined  the  roadway,  drawn  in 
toward  the  fence,  to  the  rails  of  which  the  horses 
were  tied.  Some  had  evidently  come  from  afar,  for 
the  fame  of  the  revivalist  was  widespread.  The 
women,  when  they  arrived,  entered  the  schoolhouse, 
which  was  brilliantly  lighted  with  oil  lamps.  The 
men  stood  round  ontside  in  groups,  while  many  sat 
in  rows  on  the  fences,  all  conversing  about  every 
conceivable  topic  except  religion.  They  apparently 
acted  on  the  theory  that  there  would  be  enough 
religion  to  satisfy  the  most  exacting  when  they  went 
inside.  Yates  sat  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence  with 
the  whittler,  whose  guest  he  had  been.  It  was  get- 
ting too  dark  for  satisfactory  whittling,  so  the  man 
with  the  jack-knife  improved  the  time  by  cutting 
notches  in  the  rail  on  which  he  sat.  Even  when  this 
failed,  there  was  always  a  satisfaction  in  opening  and 
shutting  a  knife  that  had  a  powerful  spring  at  the 
back  of  it,  added  to  which  was  the  pleasurable 
danger  of  cutting  his  fingers.  They  were  discussing 
the  Fenian  question,  which  at  that  time  was  occupy- 
ing the  minds  of  Canadians  to  some  extent.  Yates 
II  161 


162          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

was  telling  them  what  he  knew  of  the  brotherhood 
in  New  York,  and  the  strength  of  it,  which  his 
auditors  seemed  inclined  to  underestimate.  Nobody 
believed  that  the  Fenians  would  be  so  foolhardy  as 
to  attempt  an  invasion  of  Canada ;  but  Yates  held 
that  if  they  did,  they  would  give  the  Canadians  more 
trouble  than  was  expected. 

"  Oh,  we'll  turn  old  Bartlett  on  them,  if  they  come 
over  here.  They'll  be  glad  enough  to  get  back  if 
he  tackles  them." 

"With  his  tongue,"  added  another, 

"  By  the  way,"  said  the  whittler,  "  did  young 
Bartiett  say  he  was  coming  to-night  ?  I  hope  he'll 
bring  his  sister  if  he  does.  Didn't  any  of  you  fellows 
ask  him  to  bring  her  ?  He'd  never  think  of  it  if  he 
wasn't  told.  He  has  no  consideration  for  the  rest 
of  us." 

"  Why  didn't  you  ask  him  ?  I  hear  you  have 
taken  to  going  in  that  direction  yourself." 

"  Who  ?  Me  ?  "  asked  the  whittler,  quite  uncon- 
cerned. "  I  have  no  chance  in  that  quarter,  espe- 
cially when  the  old  man's  around." 

There  was  a  sound  of  singing  from  the  school- 
house.  The  double  doors  were  wide  open,  and  as 
the  light  streamed  out  the  people  began  to  stream  in." 

"  Where's  Macdonald  ?  "  asked  Yates. 

11  Oh,  I  guess  he's  taken  to  the  woods.  He  washes 
his  face,  and  then  he  hides.  He  has  the  sense  to 
wash  his  face  first,  for  he  knows  he  will  have  to 
come.  You'll  see  him  back  before  they  start  the 
second  hymn." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         163 

"  Well  boys !  "  said  one,  getting  down  from  the 
fence  and  stretching  his  arms  above  his  head  with  a 
yawn.  "  I  guess,  if  we're  going  in,  it's  about  time." 

One  after  another  they  got  down  from  the  fence, 
the  whittler  shutting  his  knife  with  a  reluctant  snap, 
and  putting  it  in  his  pocket  with  evident  regret. 
The  schoolhouse,  large  as  it  was,  was  filled  to  its 
utmost  capacity — women  on  one  side  of  the  room, 
and  men  on  the  other  ;  although  near  the  door  there 
was  no  such  division,  all  the  occupants  of  the  back 
benches  being  men  and  boys.  The  congregation 
was  standing,  singing  a  hymn,  when  Yates  and  his 
comrades  entered,  so  their  quiet  incoming  was  not 
noticed.  The  teacher's  desk  had  been  moved  from 
the  platform  on  which  it  usually  stood,  and  now 
occupied  a  corner  on  the  men's  side  of  the  house. 
It  was  used  as  a  seat  by  two  or  three,  who  wished  to 
be  near  the  front,  and  at  the  same  time  keep  an  eye 
on  the  rest  of  the  assemblage.  The  local  preacher 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  platform,  beating  time 
gently  with  his  hymn  book,  but  not  singing,  as  he 
had  neither  voice  nor  ear  for  music,  and  happily 
recognised  the  fact.  The  singing  was  led  by  a  man 
in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

At  the  back  of  the  platform,  near  the  wall,  were 
two  chairs,  on  one  of  which  sat  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bender- 
son,  who  was  to  conduct  the  revival.  He  was  a 
stout,  powerful-looking  man,  but  Yates  could  not  see 
his  face,  for  it  was  buried  in  his  hands,  his  head 
being  bowed  in  silent  prayer.  It  was  generally 
understood  that  he  had  spent  a  youth  of  fearful 


164         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

wickedness,  and  he  always  referred  to  himself  as  a 
brand  snatched  from  the  burning.  It  was  even 
hinted  that  at  one  time  he  had  been  a  card-player, 
but  no  one  know  this  for  a  fact.  Many  of  the  local 
preachers  had  not  the  power  of  exhortation,  there- 
fore a  man  like  the  Rev.  Mr.  Benderson,  who  had 
that  gift  abnormally  developed,  was  too  valuable  to 
be  localised ;  so  he  spent  the  year  going  from  place 
to  place,  sweeping,  driving,  coaxing,  or  frightening 
into  the  fold  those  stray  sheep  that  hovered  on  the 
outskirts  ;  once  they  were  within  the  religious  ring- 
fence  the  local  minister  was  supposed  to  keep  them 
there.  The  latter,  who  had  given  out  the  hymn, 
was  a  man  of  very  different  calibre.  He  was  tall, 
pale,  and  thin,  and  his  long  black  coat  hung  on  him 
as  if  it  were  on  a  post.  When  the  hymn  was  finished, 
and  everyone  sat  down,  Yates,  and  those  with  him, 
found  seats  as  best  they  could  at  the  end  near  the 
door.  This  was  the  portion  of  the  hall  where  the 
scoffers  assembled,  but  it  was  also  the  portion  which 
yielded  most  fruit,  if  the  revival  happened  to  be  a 
successful  one.  Yates,  seeing  the  place  so  full,  and 
noticing  two  empty  benches  up  at  the  front,  asked 
the  whittler  why  they  were  not  occupied. 

"  They'll  be  occupied  pretty  soon." 

"  For  whom  are  they  being  kept  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  for  you,  perhaps  me,  perhaps  both  of  us. 
You  never  can  tell.  That's  the  penitents'  bench." 

The  local  preacher  knelt  on  the  platform  and 
offered  up  a  prayer.  He  asked  the  Lord  to  bless  the 
efforts  of  the  brother  who  was  with  them  there  that 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          165 

night,  and  to  crown  his  labours  with  success ;  through 
his  instrumentality  to  call  many  wandering  sinners 
home.  There  were  cries  of  "  Amen  "  and  "  Bless 
the  Lord  "  from  different  parts  of  the  hall  as  the 
prayer  was  being  made.  On  rising,  another  hymn 
was  given  out : 

"  Joy  to  the  world,  the  Lord  is  come, 
Let  earth  receive  her  King." 

The  leader  of  the  singing  started  it  too  low.  The  tune 
began  high  and  ran  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  scale 
by  the  time  it  reached  the  end  of  the  first  line. 
When  the  congregation  had  got  two-thirds  of  the 
way  down,  they  found  they  could  go  no  farther,  not 
even  those  who  sang  bass.  The  leader,  in  some 
confusion,  had  to  pitch  the  tune  higher,  and  his  mis- 
calculation was  looked  upon  as  exceedingly  funny 
by  the  reckless  spirits  at  the  back  of  the  hall.  The 
door  opened  quietly,  and  they  all  turned  expecting 
to  see  Macdonald,  but  it  was  only  Sandy.  He  had 
washed  his  face  with  but  indifferent  success,  and  the 
bulge  in  his  cheek,  like  a  wen,  showed  that  he  had 
not  abandoned  tobacco  on  entering  the  schoolhouse. 
He  tiptoed  to  a  place  beside  his  friends. 

"  The  old  man's  outside,"  he  whispered  to  the 
youth,  who  sat  nearest  him,  holding  his  hand  to  the 
side  of  his  mouth,  so  that  the  sound  would  not 
travel.  Catching  sight  of  Yates,  he  winked  at  him 
in  a  friendly  sort  of  way. 

The  hymn  gathered  volume  and  spirit  as  it  went 
on,  gradually  recovering  from  the  misadventure  at 


166          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

starting.  When  it  was  finished,  the  preacher  sat 
down  beside  the  revivalist.  His  part  of  the  work 
was  done,  as  there  was  no  formal  introduction  of 
speaker  to  audience  to  be  gone  through.  The  other 
remained  as  he  was,  with  bowed  head,  for  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  long  time. 

A  deep  silence  fell  on  all  present.  Even  the  whis- 
perings among  the  scoffers  ceased. 

At  last  Mr.  Benderson  slowly  raised  his  head, 
arose,  and  came  to  the  front  of  the  platform.  He  had 
a  strong,  masterful,  clean-shaven  face,  with  the  heavy 
jaw  of  a  stubborn  man — a  man  not  easily  beaten. 
"  Open  the  door,"  he  said  in  a  quiet  voice. 

In  the  last  few  meetings  he  had  held  he  had  found 
this  an  effective  beginning.  It  was  new  to  his  pres- 
ent audience.  Usually  a  knot  of  people  stood  out- 
side, and  if  they  were  there,  he  made  an  appeal  to 
them,  through  the  open  door,  to  enter.  If  no  one 
was  there,  he  had  a  lesson  to  impart,  based  on  the 
silence  and  the  darkness.  In  this  instance  it  was 
hard  to  say  which  was  the  more  surprised,  the  revi- 
valist or  the  congregation.  Sandy,  being  on  his  feet, 
stepped  to  the  door,  and  threw  it  open.  He  was 
so  astonished  at  what  he  saw  that  he  slid  behind  the 
open  door  out  of  sight.  Macdonald  stood  there, 
against  the  darkness  beyond,  in  a  crouching  atti- 
tude, as  if  about  to  spring.  He  had  evidently  been 
trying  to  see  what  was  going  on  through  the  key- 
hole ;  and  being  taken  unawares  by  the  sudden  open- 
ing  of  the  door,  had  not  had  time  to  recover  himself. 
No  retreat  was  now  possible.  He  stood  up  with 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         167 

haggard  face,  like  a  man  who  has  been  on  a  spree, 
and,  without  a  word,  walked  in.  Those  on  the 
bench  in  front  of  Yates  moved  together  a  little 
closer,  and  the  blacksmith  sat  down  on  the  vacant 
space  left  at  the  outside.  In  his  confusion  he  drew 
his  hand  across  his  brow,  and  snapped  his  fingers 
loudly  in  the  silence.  A  few  faces  at  the  back  wore 
a  grin,  and  would  have  laughed  had  not  Sandy,  clos- 
ing the  door  quietly,  given  them  one  menacing  look 
which  quelled  their  merriment.  He  was  not  going 
to  have  the  "  old  man  "  made  fun  of  in  his  extrem- 
ity ;  and  they  all  had  respect  enough  for  Sandy's  fist 
not  to  run  the  risk  of  encountering  it  after  the 
meeting  was  over.  Macdonald  himself  was  more  to 
be  dreaded  in  a  fight ;  but  the  chances  were  that  for 
the  next  two  or  three  weeks,  if  the  revival  were  a 
success,  there  would  be  no  danger  from  that  quarter. 
Sandy,  however,  was  permanently  among  the  uncon- 
verted, and  therefore  to  be  feared,  as  being  always 
ready  to  stand  up  for  his  employer,  either  with  voice 
or  blow.  The  unexpected  incident  Mr.  Benderson 
had  witnessed  suggested  no  remarks  at  the  time,  so, 
being  a  wise  man,  he  said  nothing.  The  congrega- 
tion wondered  how  he  had  known  Macdonald  was  at 
the  door,  and  none  more  than  Macdonald  himself. 
It  seemed  to  many  that  the  revivalist  had  a  gift  of 
divination  denied  to  themselves,  and  this  belief  left 
them  in  a  frame  of  mind  more  than  ever  ready  to 
profit  by  the  discourse  they  were  about  to  hear. 

Mr.  Benderson  began   in   a  low  monotone,  that 
nevertheless  penetrated  to  every  part  of  the  room. 


168         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

He  had  a  voice  of  peculiar  quality  as  sweet  as  the 
tones  of  a  tenor,  and  as  pleasant  to  hear  as  music ;  now 
and  then  there  was  a  manly  ring  in  it  which  thrilled 
his  listeners.  "  A  week  ago  to-night,"  he  said,  "  at 
this  very  hour,  I  stood  by  the  deathbed  of  one  who 
is  now  among  the  blessed.  It  is  four  years  since 
he  found  salvation,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  through 
the  humble  instrumentality  of  the  least  of  his 
servants.  It  was  my  blessed  privilege  to  see  that 
young  man — that  boy  almost — pledge  his  soul  to 
Jesus.  He  was  less  than  twenty  when  he  gave 
himself  to  Christ,  and  his  hopes  of  a  long  life 
were  as  strong  as  the  hopes  of  the  youngest  here  to- 
night. Yet  he  was  struck  down  in  the  early  flush 
of  manhood — struck  down  almost  without  warning. 
When  I  heard  of  his  brief  illness,  although  knowing 
nothing  of  its  seriousness,  something  urged  me  to 
go  to  him,  and  at  once.  When  I  reached  the  house, 
they  told  me  that  he  had  asked  to  see  me,  and  that 
they  had  just  sent  a  messenger  to  the  telegraph 
office  with  a  dispatch  for  me.  I  said :  '  God  tele- 
graphed to  me.'  They  took  me  to  the  bedside  of 
my  young  friend,  whom  I  had  last  seen  as  hearty 
and  strong  as  anyone  here." 

Mr.  Benderson  then,  in  a  voice  quivering  with 
emotion,  told  the  story  of  the  deathbed  scene.  His 
language  was  simple  and  touching,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent to  the  most  callous  auditor  that  he  spoke  from 
the  heart,  describing  in  pathetic  words  the  event  he 
had  witnessed.  His  unadorned  eloquence  went 
straight  home  to  every  listener,  and  many  an  eye 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS        169 

dimmed  as  he  put  before  them  a  graphic  picture  of 
the  serenity  attending  the  end  of  a  well-spent  life. 

"  As  I  came  through  among  you  to-night,"  he 
continued,  "  when  you  stood  together  in  groups  out- 
side this  building,  I  caught  a  chance  expression 
that  one  of  you  uttered.  A  man  was  speaking  of 
some  neighbour  who,  at  this  busy  season  of  the  year, 
had  been  unable  to  get  help.  I  think  the  one  to 
whom  this  man  was  speaking  had  asked  if  the  busy 
man  were  here,  and  the  answer  was :  '  No ;  he  has  not 
a  minute  to  call  hir,  own.'  The  phrase  has  haunted 
me  since  I  heard  it,  less  than  an  hour  ago.  '  Not  a 
minute  to  call  his  own  ! '  I  thought  of  it  as  I  sat 
before  you.  I  thought  of  it  as  I  rose  to  address 
you.  I  think  of  it  now.  Who  has  a  minute  to 
call  his  own  ?  "  The  soft  tones  of  the  preacher's 
voice  had  given  place  to  a  ringing  cry  that  echoed 
from  the  roof  down  on  their  heads.  "  Have  you  ? 
Have  I  ?  Has  any  king,  any  prince,  any  president, 
any  ruler  over  men,  a  minute  or  a  moment  he  can 
call  his  own  ?  Not  one.  Not  one  of  all  the  teeming 
millions  on  this  earth.  The  minutes  that  are  past 
are  yours.  What  use  have  you  made  of  them  ?  All 
your  efforts,  all  your  prayers,  will  not  change  the 
deeds  done  in  any  one  of  those  minutes  that  are 
past,  and  those  only  are  yours.  The  chiselled  stone 
is  not  more  fixed  than  are  the  deeds  of  the  minutes 
that  are  past.  Their  record  is  for  you  or  against 
you.  But  where  now  are  those  minutes  of  the 
future — those  minutes  that,  from  this  time  onward, 
you  will  be  able  to  call  your  own  when  they  are 


i;o         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

spent?  They  are  in  the  hand  of  God — in  His  hand 
to  give  or  to  withhold.  And  who  can  count  them 
in  the  hand  of  God?  Not  you,  not  I,  not  the  wisest 
man  upon  the  earth.  Man  may  number  the  miles 
from  here  to  the  farthest  visible  star ;  but  he  cannot 
tell  you, — you  ;  I  don't  mean  your  neighbour,  I  mean 
you, — he  cannot  tell  YOU  whether  your  minutes 
are  to  be  one  or  a  thousand.  They  are  doled  out 
to  you  and  you  are  responsible  for  them.  But  there 
will  come  a  moment, — it  may  be  to-night,  it  may  be 
a  year  hence — when  the  hand  of  God  will  close  and 
you  will  have  your  sum.  Then  time  will  end  for 
you,  and  eternity  begin.  Are  you  prepared  for  that 
awful  moment — that  moment  when  the  last  is  given 
you,  and  the  next  withheld  ?  What  if  it  came 
now  ?  Are  you  prepared  for  it  ?  Are  you  ready  to 
welcome  it,  as  did  our  brother  who  died  at  this 
hour  one  short  week  ago?  His  was  not  the  only 
deathbed  I  have  attended.  Some  scenes  have  been 
so  seared  into  my  brain  that  I  can  never  forget 
them.  A  year  ago  I  was  called  to  the  bedside  of  a 
dying  man,  old  in  years  and  old  in  sin.  Often  had 
he  been  called,  but  he  put  Christ  away  from  him, 
saying:  '  At  a  more  convenient  season.'  He  knew 
the  path,  but  he  walked  not  therein.  And  when  at 
last  God's  patience  ended,  and  this  man  was  stricken 
down,  he,  foolish  to  the  last,  called  for  me,  the  ser- 
vant, instead  of  to  God,  the  Master.  When  I 
reached  his  side,  the  stamp  of  death  was  on  his  face. 
The  biting  finger  of  agony  had  drawn  lines  upon 
his  haggard  brow,  A  great  fear  was  upon  him,  and 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         171 

he  gripped  my  hand  with  the  cold  grasp  of  death 
itself.  In  that  darkened  room  it  seemed  to  me  I 
saw  the  angel  of  peace  standing  by  the  bed,  but  it 
stood  aloof,  as  one  often  offended.  It  seemed  to 
me  at  the  head  of  the  bed  the  demon  of  eternal 
darkness  bent  over,  whispering  to  him :  '  It  is  too 
late  !  it  is  too  late  ! '  The  dying  man  looked  at  me 
— oh,  such  a  look  !  May  you  never  be  called  upon 
to  witness  its  like.  He  gasped :  '  I  have  lived — I 
have  lived  a  sinful  life.  Is  it  too  late  ?  '  '  No,'  I 
said,  trembling.  'Say  you  believe.'  His  lips 
moved,  but  no  sound  came.  He  died  as  he  had 
lived.  The  one  necessary  minute  was  withheld. 
Do  you  hear?  It — was — withheld!  He  had  not 
the  minute  to  call  his  own.  Not  that  minute  in 
which  to  turn  from  everlasting  damnation.  He — 
went — down — into — hell,  dying  as  he  had  lived." 

The  preacher's  voice  rose  until  it  sounded  like  a 
trumpet  blast.  His  eyes  shone,  and  his  face  flushed 
with  the  fervour  of  his  theme.  Then  followed  as 
rapidly  as  words  could  utter,  a  lurid,  awful  picture 
of  hell  and  the  day  of  judgment.  Sobs  and  groans 
were  heard  in  every  part  of  the  room.  "  Come — 
now — now  /  "  he  cried.  "  Now  is  the  appointed 
time,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation.  Come  now  ;  and 
as  you  rise  pray  God  that  in  his  mercy  he  may  spare 
you  strength  and  life  to  reach  the  penitent  bench." 

Suddenly  the  preacher  ceased  talking.  Stretching 
out  his  hands,  he  broke  forth,  with  his  splendid 
tenor  voice,  into  the  rousing  hymn,  with  its  spirited 
marching  time : 


1/2 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 


'sin  •  nersj 
read  -  y 


poor' 

stands 


and' 


need*: 

.save,      yoiu 


S 


(Weak,     'and      \  wound  -ed.       tick        and        sore? 
\FuU  of         'pit     -     y,         love.       and       power? 

The  whole  congregation  joined  him.  Everyone 
knew  the  words  and  the  tune.  It  seemed  a  relief  to 
the  pent-up  feelings  to  sing  at  the  top  of  the  voice. 
The  chorus  rose  like  a  triumphal  march: 


Torn     to     the  Lord,      and     seek',    tsal-  -  'va  -   lion. 


^Eg 


Sound        the    praise         'of    \HisT    ''dear       Name; 


do   -    ry.     hon    -    our,        and        sal .-   va.-7tion, 


J.     J    /JJU      J     J     I 


Christ  .v.  the        Lord     has      come       to         reiepi 

As  the  congregation  sang  the  preacher  in  stentor- 
ian tones  urged  sinners  to  seek  the  Lord  while  he 
was  yet  to  be  found. 

Yates  felt  the  electric  thrill  in  the  air,  and  he 
tugged  at  his  collar,  as  if  he  were  choking.  He 
could  not  understand  the  strange  exaltation  that  had 
come  over  him.  It  seemed  as  if  he  must  cry  aloud. 
All  those  round  him  were  much  moved.  There 
were  now  no  scoffers  at  the  back  of  the  room.  Most  of 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          173 

them  seemed  frightened,  and  sat  looking  one  at  the 
other.  It  only  needed  a  beginning,  and  the  penitent 
bench  would  be  crowded.  Many  eyes  were  turned  on 
Macdonald.  His  face  was  livid,  and  great  beads  of 
perspiration  stood  on  his  brow.  His  strong  hand 
clutched  the  back  of  the  seat  before  him,  and  the 
muscles  stood  out  on  the  portion  of  his  arm  that 
was  bare.  He  stared  like  a  hypnotised  man  at  the 
preacher.  His  teeth  were  set,  and  he  breathed  hard, 
as  would  a  man  engaged  in  a  struggle.  At  last  the 
hand  of  the  preacher  seemed  to  be  pointed  directly 
at  him.  He  rose  tremblingly  to  his  feet  and  stag- 
gered down  the  aisle,  flinging  himself  on  his  knees, 
with  his  head  on  his  arms,  beside  the  penitent 
bench,  groaning  aloud. 

"  Bless  the  Lord  !  "  cried  the  preacher. 

It  was  the  starting  of  the  avalanche.  Up  the 
aisle,  with  pale  faces,  many  with  tears  streaming 
from  their  eyes,  walked  the  young  men  and  the  old. 
Mothers,  with  joy  in  their  hearts  and  a  prayer  on 
their  lips,  saw  their  sons  fall  prostrate  before  the 
penitent  bench.  Soon  the  contrite  had  to  kneel 
wherever  they  could.  The  ringing  salvation  march 
filled  the  air,  mingled  with  cries  of  joy  and  devout 
ejaculations. 

"  God  !  "  cried  Yates,  tearing  off  his  collar,  "  what 
is  the  matter  with  me  ?  I  never  felt  like  this  before. 
I  must  get  into  the  open  air." 

He  made  for  the  door  and  escaped  unnoticed  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment.  He  stood  for  a 
time  by  the  fence  outside  breathing  deeply  of  the 


174 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 


cool,  sweet  air.  The  sound  of  the  hymn  came  faintly 
to  him.  He  clutched  the  fence,  fearing  he  was 
about  to  faint.  Partially  recovering  himself  at  last, 
he  ran  with  all  his  might  up  the  road,  while  there 
rang  in  his  ears  the  marching  words : 

\tj* — >  ^*i 

Turn      to     the, Lord,      and     seek      .sal.  •  va   •   (ion. 


m 


.Sound        ihe  praise          c£      His       dear       Name. 


' ouii       <and        sal   -   va   -   Uon, 


Tjmi 


CHAPTER   XIV 

WHEN  people  are  thrown  together,  especially 
young  people,  the  mutual  relationship  existing  be- 
tween them  rarely  remains  stationary.  It  drifts  toward 
like  or  dislike ;  and  cases  have  been  known  where  it 
has  progressed  into  love  or  hatred. 

Stillson  Renmark  and  Margaret  Howard  became 
at  least  very  firm  friends.  Each  of  them  would 
have  been  ready  to  admit  this  much.  These  two 
had  a  good  foundation  on  which  to  build  up  an  ac- 
quaintance in  the  fact  that  Margaret's  brother  was  a 
student  in  the  university  of  which  the  professor  was 
a  worthy  member.  They  had  also  a  topic  of  differ- 
ence, which,  if  it  leads  not  to  heated  argument,  but 
is  soberly  discussed,  lends  itself  even  more  to  the 
building  of  friendship  than  do  subjects  of  agree- 
ment. Margaret  held,  as  has  been  indicated  in  a 
previous  chapter,  that  the  university  was  wrong  in 
closing  its  doors  to  women.  Renmark,  up  to  the 
time  of  their  first  conversation,  had  given  the  matter 
but  little  thought ;  yet  he  developed  an  opinion 
contrary  to  that  of  Margaret,  and  was  too  honest  a 
man,  or  too  little  of  a  diplomatist,  to  conceal  it. 
On  one  occasion  Yates  had  been  present,  and  he 
threw  himself,  with  the  energy  that  distinguished 

175 


i;6         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

him,  into  the  woman  side  of  the  question — cordially 
agreeing  with  Margaret,  citing  instances  and  holding 
up  to  ridicule  those  who  were  against  the  admission 
of  women,  taunting  them  with  fear  of  feminine  com- 
petition. Margaret  became  silent  as  the  champion 
of  her  cause  waxed  the  more  eloquent ;  but  whether 
she  liked  Richard  Yates  the  better  for  his  partisan- 
ship who  that  is  not  versed  in  the  ways  of  women 
can  say  ?  As  the  hope  of  winning  her  regard  was 
the  sole  basis  of  Yates'  uncompromising  views  on 
the  subject,  it  is  likely  that  he  was  successful,  for 
his  experiences  with  the  sex  were  large  and  varied. 
Margaret  was  certainly  attracted  toward  Renmark, 
whose  deep  scholarship  even  his  excessive  self-de- 
preciation could  not  entirely  conceal ;  and  he,  in 
turn,  had  naturally  a  schoolmaster's  enthusiasm  over 
a  pupil  who  so  earnestly  desired  advancement  in 
knowledge.  Had  he  described  his  feelings  to  Yates, 
who  was  an  expert  in  many  matters,  he  would  per- 
haps have  learned  that  he  was  in  love  ;  but  Renmark 
was  a  reticent  man,  not  much  given  either  to  intro- 
spection or  to  being  lavish  with  his  confidences. 
As  to  Margaret,  who  can  plummet  the  depth  of  a 
young  girl's  regard  until  she  herself  gives  some  in- 
dication ?  All  that  one  is  able  to  record  is  that  she 
was  kinder  to  Yates  than  she  had  been  at  the 
beginning. 

Miss  Kitty  Bartlett  probably  would  not  have 
denied  that  she  had  a  sincere  liking  for  the  conceited 
young  man  from  New  York.  Renmark  fell  into  the 
error  of  thinking  Miss  Kitty  a  frivolous  young 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         177 

person,  whereas  she  was  merely  a  girl  who  had  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  high  spirits,  and  one  who  took 
a  most  deplorable  pleasure  in  shocking  a  serious 
man.  Even  Yates  made  a  slight  mistake  regarding 
her  on  one  occasion,  when  they  were  having  an 
evening  walk  together,  with  that  freedom  from 
chaperonage  which  is  the  birthright  of  every  Amer- 
ican girl,  whether  she  belongs  to  a  farmhouse  or  to 
the  palace  of  a  millionaire. 

In  describing  the  incident  afterward  to  Renmark 
(for  Yates  had  nothing  of  his  comrade's  reserve  in 
these  matters)  he  said : 

"  She  left  a  diagram  of  her  four  fingers  on  my 
cheek  that  felt  like  one  of  those  raised  maps  of 
Switzerland.  I  have  before  now  felt  the  tap  of  a 
lady's  fan  in  admonition,  but  never  in  my  life  have 
I  met  a  gentle  reproof  that  seemed  so  much  like  a 
censure  from  the  paw  of  our  friend  Tom  Sayers." 

Renmark  said  with  some  severity  that  he  hoped 
Yates  would  not  forget  that  he  was,  in  a  measure,  a 
guest  of  his  neighbours. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Yates.  "  If  you  have 
any  spare  sympathy  to  bestow,  keep  it  for  me.  My 
neighbours  are  amply  able,  and  more  than  willing, 
to  take  care  of  themselves." 

And  now  as  to  Richard  Yates  himself.  One 
would  imagine  that  here,  at  least,  a  conscientious 
relater  of  events  would  have  an  easy  task.  Alas ! 
such  is  far  from  being  the  fact.  The  case  of  Yates 
was  by  all  odds  the  most  complex  and  bewildering 
of  the  four.  He  was  deeply  and  truly  in  love  with 

12 


i;8         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

both  of  the  girls.  Instances  of  this  kind  are  not  so 
rare  as  a  young  man  newly  engaged  to  an  innocent 
girl  tries  to  make  her  believe.  Cases  have  been 
known  where  a  chance  meeting  with  one  girl,  and 
not  with  another,  has  settled  who  was  to  be  a  young 
man's  companion  during  a  long  life.  Yates  believed 
that  in  multitude  of  counsel  there  is  wisdom,  and 
made  no  secret  of  his  perplexity  to  his  friend.  He 
complained  sometimes  that  he  got  little  help  toward 
the  solution  of  the  problem,  but  generally  he  was 
quite  content  to  sit  under  the  trees  with  Renmark 
and  weigh  the  different  advantages  of  each  of  the 
girls.  He  sometimes  appealed  to  his  friend,  as  a 
man  with  a  mathematical  turn  of  mind,  possessing 
an  education  that  extended  far  into  conic  sections 
and  algebraic  formulae,  to  balance  the  lists,  and  give 
him  a  candid  and  statistical  opinion  as  to  which  of 
the  two  he  should  favour  with  serious  proposals. 
When  these  appeals  for  help  were  coldly  received, 
he  accused  his  friend  of  lack  of  sympathy  with  his 
dilemma;  said  that  he  was  a  soulless  man,  and  that 
if  he  had  a  heart  it  had  become  incrusted  with  the 
useless  debris  of  a  higher  education,  and  swore  to 
confide  in  him  no  more.  He  would  search  for  a 
friend,  he  said,  who  had  something  human  about 
him.  The  search  for  the  sympathetic  friend,  how- 
ever, seemed  to  be  unsuccessful ;  for  Yates  always 
returned  to  Renmark,  to  have,  as  he  remarked,  ice 
water  dashed  upon  his  duplex-burning  passion, 

It  was  a  lovely  afternoon  in   the  latter  part  of 
May,  1 866,  and  Yates  was  swinging  idly  in  the  ham- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         179 

mock,  with  his  hands  clasped  under  his  head,  gazing 
dreamily  up  at  the  patches  of  blue  sky  seen  through 
the  green  branches  of  the  trees  overhead,  while  his 
industrious  friend  was  unromantically  peeling  po- 
tatoes near  the  door  of  the  tent. 

"  The  human  heart,  Renny,"  said  the  man  in  the 
hammock  reflectively,  "  is  a  remarkable  organ,  when 
you  come  to  think  of  it.  I  presume,  from  your  lack 
of  interest,  that  you  haven't  given  the  subject  much 
study,  except,  perhaps,  in  a  physiological  way.  At 
the  present  moment  it  is  to  me  the  only  theme 
worthy  of  a  man's  entire  attention.  Perhaps  that  is 
the  result  of  spring,  as  the  poet  says ;  but,  anyhow, 
it  presents  new  aspects  to  me  each  hour.  Now,  I 
have  made  this  important  discovery  :  that  the  girl  I 
am  with  last  seems  to  me  the  most  desirable.  That 
is  contrary  to  the  observation  of  philosophers  of 
bygone  days.  Absence  makes  the  heart  grow  fonder, 
they  say.  I  don't  find  it  so.  Presence  is  what  plays 
the  very  deuce  with  me.  Now,  how  do  you  account 
for  it,  Stilly?" 

The  professor  did  not  attempt  to  account  for  it, 
but  silently  attended  to  the  business  in  hand,  Yates 
withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  sky,  and  fixed  them  on 
the  professor,  waiting  for  the  answer  that  did  not 
come. 

"  Mr.  Renmark,"  he  drawled  at  last,  "  I  am  con- 
vinced that  your  treatment  of  the  potato  is  a  mistake. 
I  think  potatoes  should  not  be  peeled  the  day  before, 
and  left  to  soak  in  cold  water  until  to-morfow's  din- 
ner. Of  course  I  admire  the  industry  that  gets  work 


I8o         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

well  over  before  its  results  are  called  for.  Nothing 
is  more  annoying  than  duty  left  untouched  until  the 
last  moment,  and  then  hurriedly  done.  Still,  virtue 
may  be  carried  to  excess,  and  a  man  may  be  too 
previous." 

"  Well,  I  am  quite  willing  to  relinquish  the  avoca- 
tion into  your  hands.  You  may  perhaps  remember 
that  for  two  days  I  have  been  doing  your  share  as 
well  as  my  own." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  complaining  about  that,  at  all," 
said  the  hammock  magnanimously.  "You  are  ac- 
quiring practical  knowledge,  Renny,  that  will  be  of 
more  use  to  you  than  all  the  learning  taught  in  the 
schools.  My  only  desire  is  that  your  education 
should  be  as  complete  as  possible,  and  to  this  end  I 
am  willing  to  subordinate  my  own  yearning  desire 
for  scullery  work.  I  should  suggest  that,  instead  of 
going  to  the  trouble  of  entirely  removing  the  cover- 
ing of  the  potato  in  that  laborious  way,  you  should 
merely  peel  a  belt  around  its  greatest  circumference. 
Then,  rather  than  cook  the  potatoes  in  the  slow  and 
soggy  manner  that  seems  to  delight  you,  you  should 
boil  them  quickly,  with  some  salt  placed  in  the  water. 
The  remaining  coat  would  then  curl  outward,  and  the 
resulting  potato  would  be  white  and  dry  and  mealy, 
instead  of  being  in  the  condition  of  a  wet  sponge." 

"  The  beauty  of  a  precept,  Yates,  is  the  illustrating 
of  it.  If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  my  way  of  boil- 
ing potatoes,  give  me  a  practical  object  lesson." 

The  man  in  the  hammock  sighed  reproachfully. 

"  Of  coure  an  unimaginative  person  like  you,  Ren- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         181 

mark,  cannot  realise  the  cruelty  of  suggesting  that  a 
man  as  deeply  in  love  as  I  am  should  demean  him- 
self by  attending  to  the  prosaic  details  of  household 
affairs.  I  am  doubly  in  love,  and  much  more,  there- 
fore, as  that  old  bore  Euclid  used  to  say,  is  your 
suggestion  unkind  and  uncalled  for." 

"  All  right,  then  ;  don't  criticise." 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  certain  sweet  reasonableness  in 
your  curt  suggestion.  A  man  who  is  unable,  or  un- 
willing, to  labour  in  the  vineyard  should  not  find  fault 
with  the  pickers.  And  now,  Renny,  for  the  hun- 
dredth time  of  asking,  add  to  the  many  obligations 
already  conferred,  and  tell  me,  like  the  good  fellow 
you  are,  what  you  would  do  if  you  were  in  my  place. 
To  which  of  those  two  charming,  but  totally  unlike, 
girls  would  you  give  the  preference?" 

"  Damn  !  "  said  the  professor  quietly. 

"  Hello,  Renny ! "  cried  Yates,  raising  his  head. 
"  Have  you  cut  your  finger?  I  should  have  warned 
you  against  using  too  sharp  a  knife." 

But  the  professor  had  not  cut  his  finger.  His  use 
of  the  word  given  above  is  not  to  be  defended ;  still, 
as  it  was  spoken  by  him,  it  seemed  to  lose  all  rela- 
tionship with  swearing.  He  said  it  quietly,  mildly, 
and  in  a  certain  sense,  innocently.  He  was  aston- 
ished at  himself  for  using  it,  but  there  had  been 
moments  during  the  past  few  days  when  the  ordinary 
expletives  set  down  in  the  learned  volumes  of  higher 
mathematics  did  not  fit  the  occasion. 

Before  anything  more  could  be  said  there  was  a 
shout  from  the  roadway  near  them. 


182        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"Is  Richard  Yates  there  ?  "  hailed  the  voice. 

"  Yes.  Who  wants  him  ?  "  cried  Yates  springing 
out  of  the  hammock. 

"  I  do,"  said  a  young  fellow  on  horseback.  He 
threw  himself  off  a  tired  horse,  tied  the  animal  to  a 
sapling, — which,  judging  by  the  horse's  condition, 
was  an  entirely  unnecessary  operation, — jumped 
over  the  rail  fence,  and  approached  through  the 
woods.  The  young  men  saw  coming  toward  them, 
a  tall  lad  in  the  uniform  of  the  telegraph  service. 

"  I'm  Yates.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  lad,  "  I've  had  a  hunt  and  a  half 
for  you.  Here's  a  telegram." 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  find  out  where  I  was? 
Nobody  has  my  address." 

"That's  just  the  trouble.  It  would  have  saved 
somebody  in  New  York  a  pile  of  money  if  you  had 
left  it.  No  man  ought  to  go  to  the  woods  without 
leaving  his  address  at  a  telegraph  office,  anyhow." 
The  young  man  looked  at  the  world  from  a  tele- 
graphic point  of  view.  People  were  good  or  bad 
according  to  the  trouble  they  gave  a  telegraph  mes- 
senger. Yates  took  the  yellow  envelope,  addressed 
in  lead  pencil,  but,  without  opening  it,  repeated  his 
question : 

"  But  how  on  earth  did  you  find  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  easy,"  said  the  boy.  "  My  horse 
is  about  done  out.  I'm  from  Buffalo.  They  tele- 
graphed from  New  York  that  we  were  to  spare  no 
expense ;  and  we  haven't.  There  are  seven  other 
fellows  scouring  the  country  on  horseback  with 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          183 

duplicates  of  that  despatch,  and  some  more  have 
gone  along  the  lake  shore  on  the  American  side. 
Say,  no  other  messenger  has  been  here  before  me, 
has  he  ?  "  asked  the  boy  with  a  touch  of  anxiety  in 
his  voice. 

"  No ;  you  are  the  first." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that.  I've  been  'most  all  over 
Canada.  I  got  on  your  trail  about  two  hours  ago, 
and  the  folks  at  the  farmhouse  down  below  said  you 
were  up  here.  Is  there  any  answer  ?  " 

Yates  tore  open  the  envelope.  The  despatch  was 
long,  and  he  read  it  with  a  deepening  frown.  It  was 
to  this  effect : 

"  Fenians  crossing  into  Canada  at  Buffalo.  You  are  near  the  spot ; 
get  there  as  quick  as  possible.  Five  of  our  men  leave  for  Buffalo 
to-night.  General  O'Neill  is  in  command  of  Fenian  army.  He  will 
give  you  every  facility  when  you  tell  him  who  you  are.  When  five 
arrive,  they  will  report  to  you.  Place  one  or  two  with  Canadian 
troops.  Get  one  to  hold  the  telegraph  wire,  and  send  over  all  the 
stuff  the  wire  will  carry.  Draw  on  us  for  cash  you  need ;  and  don't 
spare  expense." 

When  Yates  finished  the  reading  of  this,  he  broke 
forth  into  a  line  of  language  that  astonished  Ren- 
mark,  and  drew  forth  the  envious  admiration  of  the 
Buffalo  telegraph  boy. 

"  Heavens  and  earth  and  the  lower  regions  !  I'm 
here  on  my  vacation.  I'm  not  going  to  jump  into 
work  for  all  the  papers  in  New  York.  Why  couldn't 
those  fools  of  Fenians  stay  at  home  ?  The  idiots 
don't  know  when  they're  well  off.  The  Fenians  be 
hanged ! " 


1 84         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Guess  that's  what  they  will  be,"  said  the  tele, 
graph  boy.  "Any  answer,  sir?  " 

"  No.     Tell  'em  you  couldn't  find  me." 

"  Don't  expect  the  boy  to  tell  a  lie,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, speaking  for  the  first  time. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  a  lie !  "  exclaimed  the  boy, 
"  but  not  that  one.  No,  sir.  I've  had  too  much 
trouble  finding  you.  I'm  not  going  to  pretend  I'm 
no  good.  I  started  out  for  to  find  you,  and  I  have. 
But  I'll  tell  any  other  lie  you  like,  Mr.  Yates,  if 
it  will  oblige  you." 

Yates  recognised  in  the  boy  the  same  emulous 
desire  to  outstrip  his  fellows  that  had  influenced  him- 
self when  he  was  a  young  reporter,  and  he  at  once 
admitted  the  injustice  of  attempting  to  deprive  him 
of  the  fruits  of  his  enterprise. 

"No,"  he  said,  "that  won't  do.  No;  you  have 
found  me,  and  you're  a  young  fellow  who  will  be 
president  of  the  telegraph  company  some  day,  or 
perhaps  hold  the  less  important  office  of  the  United 
States  presidency.  Who  knows  ?  Have  you  a  tele- 
graph blank  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  boy,  fishing  out  a  bundle 
from  the  leathern  wallet  by  his  side.  Yates  took 
the  paper,  and  flung  himself  down  under  the  tree. 

"  Here's  a  pencil,"  said  the  messenger. 

"  A  newspaper  man  is  never  without  a  pencil, 
thank  you,"  replied  Yates,  taking  one  out  of  his  in- 
side pocket.  "  Now,  Renmark,  I'm  not  going  to  tell 
a  lie  on  this  occasion,"  he  continued. 

"  I  think  the  truth  is  better  on  all  occasions." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         185 

"  Right  you  are.     So  here  goes  for  the  solid  truth." 

Yates,  as  he  lay  on  the  ground,  wrote  rapidly  on 
the  telegraph  blank.  Suddenly  he  looked  up  and 
said  to  the  professor :  "  Say,  Renmark,  are  you  a 
doctor  ?  " 

"  Of  laws,"  replied  his  friend. 

"  Oh,  that  will  do  just  as  well."  And  he  finished 
his  writing. 

"How  is  this?"  he  cried,  holding  the  paper  at 
arm's  length : 

"  I/.  F.  SPENCER, 

"  Managing  Editor  '  Argus,'1  New  York  : 

"  I'm  flat  on  my  back.  Haven't  done  a  hand's  turn  for  a 
week.  Am  under  the  constant  care,  night  and  day,  of  one  of 
the  most  eminent  doctors  in  Canada,  who  even  prepares  my 
food  for  me.  Since  leaving  New  York,  trouble  of  the  heart  has 
complicated  matters,  and  at  present  baffles  the  doctor.  Con- 
sultations daily.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  move  from  here 
until  present  complications  have  yielded  to  treatment. 

"  Simson  would  be  a  good  man  to  take  charge  in  my  absence. 

"YATES." 

"  There,"  said  Yates,  with  a  tone  of  satisfaction, 
when  he  had  finished  the  reading.  "  What  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

The  professor  frowned,  but  did  not  answer.  The 
boy,  who  partly  saw  through  it,  but  not  quite, 
grinned,  and  said :  "  Is  it  true  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it's  true  !  "  cried  Yates,  indignant  at 
the  unjust  suspicion.  "  It  is  a  great  deal  more  true 
than  you  have  any  idea  of.  Ask  the  doctor,  there, 
if  it  isn't  true.  Now  my  boy,  will  you  give  this  in 
when  you  get  back  to  the  office  ?  Tell  "em  to  rush 


i86        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

it  through  to  New  York.  I  would  mark  it  '  rush,' 
only  that  never  does  any  good,  and  always  makes 
the  operator  mad." 

The  boy  took  the  paper,  and   put  it  in  his  wallet. 

"  It's  to  be  paid  for  at  the  other  end,"  continued 
Yates. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  answered  the  messenger 
with  a  certain  condescension,  as  if  he  were  giving 
credit  on  behalf  of  the  company.  "  Well,  so  long," 
he  added.  "  I  hope  you'll  soon  be  better,  Mr.  Yates." 

Yates  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  laugh,  and  followed 
him  to  the  fence. 

"  Now,  youngster,  you  are  up  to  snuff,  I  can  see 
that.  They'll  perhaps  question  you  when  you  get 
back.  What  will  you  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  tell  'em  what  a  hard  job  I  had  to  find 
you,  and  let  'em  know  nobody  else  could  'a'  done 
it,  and  I'll  say  you're  a  pretty  sick  man.  I  won't 
tell  'em  you  gave  me  a  dollar  !  " 

"  Right  you  are,  sonny ;  yotill  get  along.  Here's 
five  dollars,  all  in  one  bill.  If  you  meet  any  other 
of  the  messengers,  take  them  back  with  you.  There's 
no  use  of  their  wasting  valuable  time  in  this  little 
neck  of  the  woods." 

The  boy  stuffed  the  bill  into  his  vest-pocket  as 
carelessly  as  if  it  represented  cents  instead  of  dollars, 
mounted  his  tired  horse,  and  waved  his  hand  in 
farewell  to  the  newspaper  man.  Yates  turned  and 
walked  slowly  back  to  the  tent.  He  threw  himself 
once  more  into  the  hammock.  As  he  expected,  the 
professor  was  more  taciturn  than  ever,  and,  although 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         187 

he  had  been  prepared  for  silence,  the  silence  irritated 
him.  He  felt  ill-used  at  having  so  unsympathetic  a 
companion. 

"  Look  here,  Renmark ;  why  don't  you  say  some- 
thing?" 

"  There  is  nothing  to  say." 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is.  You  don't  approve  of  me,  do 
you?" 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  makes  any  difference  whether 
I  approve  or  not." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  does.  A  man  likes  to  have  the  ap- 
proval of  even  the  humblest  of  his  fellow-creatures. 
Say,  what  will  you  take  in  cash  to  approve  of  me  ? 
People  talk  of  the  tortures  of  conscience,  but  you 
are  more  uncomfortable  than  the  most  cast-iron 
conscience  any  man  ever  had.  One's  own  conscience 
one  can  deal  with,  but  a  conscience  in  the  person  of 
another  man  is  beyond  one's  control.  Now,  it  is 
like  this:  I  am  here  for  quiet  and  rest.  I  have 
earned  both,  and  I  think  I  am  justified  in " 

"  Now,  Mr.  Yates,  please  spare  me  any  cheap 
philosophy  on  the  question.  I  am  tired  of  it." 

"  And  of  me,  too,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  rather — if  you  want  to  know." 

Yates  sprang  out  of  the  hammock.  For  the  first 
time  since  the  encounter  with  Bartlett  on  the  road 
Renmark  saw  that  he  was  thoroughly  angry.  The 
reporter  stood  with  clenched  fists  and  flashing  eyes, 
hesitating.  The  other,  his  heavy  brows  drawn,  while 
not  in  an  aggressive  attitude,  was  plainly  ready  for 
an  attack.  Yates  concluded  to  speak,  and  not  to 


1 88         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

strike.  This  was  not  because  he  was  afraid,  for  he 
was  far  from  being  a  coward.  The  reporter  realised 
that  he  had  forced  the  conversation,  and  remembered 
he  had  invited  Renmark  to  accompany  him.  Al- 
though this  recollection  stayed  his  hand,  it  had  no 
effect  on  his  tongue. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  it  would  do  you 
good  for  once  to  hear  a  straight,  square,  unbiassed 
opinion  of  yourself.  You  have  associated  so  long 
with  pupils,  to  whom  your  word  is  law,  that  it  may 
interest  you  to  know  what  a  man  of  the  world  thinks 
of  you.  A  few  years  of  schoolmastering  is  enough 
to  spoil  an  archangel.  Now,  I  think,  of  all  the — 

The  sentence  was  interrupted  by  a  cry  from  the 
fence : 

"  Say,  do  you  gentlemen  know  where  a  fellow 
named  Yates  lives  ?  " 

The  reporter's  hand  dropped  to  his  side.  A  look 
of  dismay  came  over  his  face,  and  his  truculent  man- 
ner changed  with  a  suddenness  that  forced  a  smile 
even  to  the  stern  lips  of  Renmark. 

Yates  backed  toward  the  hammock  like  a  man  who 
had  received  an  unexpected  blow. 

"  I  say,  Renny,"  he  wailed,  "  it's  another  of  those 
cursed  telegraph  messengers.  Go,  like  a  good  fel- 
low, and  sign  for  the  despatch.  Sign  it  '  Dr.  Ren- 
mark, for  R.  Yates.'  That  will  give  it  a  sort  of 
official,  medical-bulletin  look.  I  wish  I  had  thought 
of  that  when  the  other  boy  was  here.  Tell  him  I'm 
lying  down."  He  flung  himself  into  the  hammock, 
and  Renmark,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  walked 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         189 

toward  the  boy  at  the  fence,  who  had  repeated  his 
question  in  a  louder  voice.  In  a  short  time  he  re- 
turned with  the  yellow  envelope,  which  he  tossed 
to  the  man  in  the  hammock.  Yates  seized  it  savage- 
ly, tore  it  into  a  score  of  pieces,  and  scattered  the 
fluttering  bits  around  him  on  the  ground.  The  pro- 
fessor stood  there  for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said  at  last,  "you'll  be  good  enough 
to  go  on  with  your  remarks." 

"  I  was  merely  going  to  say,"  answered  Yates 
wearily,  "  that  you  are  a  mighty  good  fellow,  Renny. 
People  who  camp  out  always  have  rows.  That  is 
our  first ;  suppose  we  let  it  be  the  last.  Camping 
out  is  something  like  married  life,  I  guess,  and  re- 
quires some  forbearance  on  both  sides.  That  phil- 
osophy may  be  cheap,  but  I  think  it  is  accurate.  I 
am  really  very  much  worried  about  this  newspaper 
business.  I  ought,  of  course,  to  fling  myself  into 
the  chasm  like  that  Roman  fellow ;  but,  hang  it ! 
I've  been  flinging  myself  into  chasms  for  fifteen 
years,  and  what  good  has  it  done  ?  There's  always 
a  crisis  in  a  daily  newspaper  office.  I  want  them  to 
understand  in  the  Argus  office  that  I  am  on  my 
vacation." 

"  They  will  be  more  likely  to  understand  from  the 
telegram  that  you're  on  your  deathbed." 

Yates  laughed.  "  That's  so,"  he  said  ;  "  but,  you 
see,  Renny,  we  New  Yorkers  live  in  such  an  atmos- 
phere of  exaggeration  that  if  I  did  not  put  it  strongly 
it  wouldn't  have  any  effect.  You've  got  to  give  a 
big  dose  to  a  man  who  has  been  imbibing  poison  all 


190        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

his  life.  They  will  take  off  ninety  per  cent,  from  any 
statement  I  make,  anyhow ;  so,  you  see,  I  have  to 
pile  it  up  pretty  high  before  the  remaining  ten  per 
cent,  amounts  to  anything." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  crackling 
of  the  dry  twigs  behind  them,  and  Yates,  who  had 
been  keeping  his  eye  nervously  on  the  fence,  turned 
round.  Young  Bartlett  pushed  his  way  through  the 
underbrush.  His  face  was  red ;  he  had  evidently 
been  running. 

"  Two  telegrams  for  you,  Mr.  Yates,"  he  panted. 
"  The  fellows  that  brought  'em  said  they  were  im- 
portant; so  I  ran  out  with  them  myself,  for  fear 
they  wouldn't  find  you.  One  of  them's  from  Port 
Colborne,  the  other's  from  Buffalo." 

Telegrams  were  rare  on  the  farm,  and  young  Bart- 
lett looked  on  the  receipt  of  one  as  an  event  in  a 
man's  life.  He  was  astonished  to  see  Yates  receive 
the  double  event  with  a  listlessness  that  he  could 
not  help  thinking  was  merely  assumed  for  effect. 
Yates  held  them  in  his  hand,  and  did  not  tear  them 
up  at  once  out  of  consideration  for  the  feelings  of 
the  young  man,  who  had  had  a  race  to  deliver  them. 

"  Here's  two  books  they  wanted  you  to  sign. 
They're  tired  out,  and  mother's  giving  them  some- 
thing  to  eat." 

"  Professor,  you  sign  for  me,  won't  you  ?  "  said 
Yates. 

Bartlett  lingered  a  moment,  hoping  that  he  would 
hear  something  of  the  contents  of  the  important 
messages ;  but  Yates  did  not  even  open  the  envelopes, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         191 

although  he  thanked  the  young  man  heartily  for 
bringing  them. 

"  Stuck-up  cuss ! "  muttered  young  Bartlett  to 
himself,  as  he  shoved  the  signed  books  into  his 
pocket  and  pushed  his  way  through  the  underbrush 
again.  Yates  slowly  and  methodically  tore  the  en- 
velopes and  their  contents  into  little  pieces,  and 
scattered  them  as  before. 

"Begins  to  look  like  autumn,"  he  said,  "with  the 
yellow  leaves  strewing  the  ground." 


CHAPTER  XV 

BEFORE  night  three  more  telegraph  boys  found 
Yates,  and  three  more  telegrams  in  sections  helped 
to  carpet  the  floor  of  the  forest.  The  usually  high 
spirits  of  the  newspaper  man  went  down  and  down 
under  the  repeated  visitations.  At  last  he  did  not 
even  swear,  which,  in  the  case  of  Yates,  always  in- 
dicated extreme  depression.  As  night  drew  on  he 
remarked  feebly  to  the  professor  that  he  was  more 
tired  than  he  had  ever  been  in  going  through  an 
election  campaign.  He  went  to  his  tent  bunk  early, 
in  a  state  of  such  utter  dejection  that  Renmark  was 
sorry  for  him,  and  tried  ineffectually  to  cheer  him 
up. 

"If  they  would  all  come  together,"  said  Yates 
bitterly,  "  so  that  one  comprehensive  effort  of  male- 
diction would  include  the  lot  and  have  it  over,  it 
wouldn't  be  so  bad  ;  but  this  constant  dribbling  in 
of  messengers  would  wear  out  the  patience  of  a  saint." 

As  he  sat  in  his  shirt  sleeves  on  the  edge  of  his 
bunk  Renmark  said  that  things  would  look  brighter 
in  the  morning — which  was  a  safe  remark  to  make, 
for  the  night  was  dark. 

Yates  sat  silently,  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  for 
some  moments.  At  last  he  said  slowly :  "  There  is 
193 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         193 

no  one  so  obtuse  as  the  thoroughly  good  man.  It 
is  not  the  messenger  I  am  afraid  of,  after  all.  He 
is  but  the  outward  symptom  of  the  inward  trouble. 
What  you  are  seeing  is  an  example  of  the  workings 
of  conscience  where  you  thought  conscience  was 
absent.  The  trouble  with  me  is  that  I  know  the 
newspaper  depends  on  me,  and  that  it  will  be  the 
first  time  I  have  failed.  It  is  the  newspaper  man's 
instinct  to  be  in  the  centre  of  the  fray.  He  yearns 
to  scoop  the  opposition  press.  I  will  get  a  night's 
sleep  if  I  can,  and  to-morrow,  I  know,  I  shall  capit- 
ulate. I  will  hunt  out  General  O'Neill,  and  inter- 
view him  on  the  field  of  slaughter.  I  will  telegraph 
pages.  I  will  refurbish  my  military  vocabulary,  and 
speak  of  deploying  and  massing  and  throwing  out 
advance  guards,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  I  will  move 
detachments  and  advance  brigades,  and  invent  strat- 
egy. We  will  have  desperate  fighting  in  the  columns 
of  the  Argus,  whatever  there  is  on  the  fields  of 
Canada.  But  to  a  man  who  has  seen  real  war  this 

optra-bouffe  masquerade  of  fighting I  don't 

want  to  say  anything  harsh,  but  to  me  it  is  offen- 
sive." 

He  looked  up  with  a  wan  smile  at  his  partner, 
sitting  on  the  bottom  of  an  upturned  pail,  as  he  said 
this.  Then  he  reached  for  his  hip  pocket  and  drew 
out  a  revolver,  which  he  handed,  butt-end  forward, 
to  the  professor,  who,  not  knowing  his  friend  carried 
such  an  instrument,  instinctively  shrank  from  it. 

"  Here,  Renny,  take  this  weapon  of  devastation 
and  soak  it  with  the  potatoes.  If  another  messenger 
13 


194         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

comes  in  on  me  to-night,  I  know  I  shall  riddle  him 
if  I  have  this  handy.  My  better  judgment  tells  me 
he  is  innocent,  and  I  don't  want  to  shed  the  only 
blood  that  will  be  spilled  during  this  awful  cam- 
paign." 

How  long  they  had  been  asleep  they  did  not  know, 
as  the  ghost-stories  have  it,  but  both  were  suddenly 
awakened  by  a  commotion  outside.  It  was  intensely 
dark  inside  the  tent,  but  as  the  two  sat  up  they 
noticed  a  faint  moving  blur  of  light,  which  made 
itself  just  visible  through  the  canvas. 

"  It's  another  of  those  fiendish  messengers," 
whispered  Yates.  "  Gi'  me  that  revolver." 

"  Hush ! "  said  the  other  below  his  breath. 
"  There's  about  a  dozen  men  out  there,  judging  by 
the  footfalls.  I  heard  them  coming." 

"  Let's  fire  into  the  tent  and  be  done  with  it,"  said 
a  voice  outside. 

"  No,  no/'  cried  another ;  "  no  man  shoot.  It 
makes  too  much  noise,  and  there  must  be  others 
about.  Have  ye  all  got  yer  bayonets  fixed  ?  " 

There  was  a  murmur,  apparently  in  the  affirma- 
tive. 

"  Very  well,  then.  Murphy  and  O'Rourick,  come 
round  to  this  side.  You  three  stay  where  you  are. 
Tim,  you  go  to  that  end ;  and,  Doolin,  come  with 
me." 

"  The  Fenian  army,  by  all  the  gods  !  "  whispered 
Yates,  groping  for  his  clothes.  "  Renny,  give  me 
that  revolver,  and  I'll  show  you  more  fun  than  a 
funeral." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          195 

"  No,  no.  They're  at  least  three  to  our  o«e. 
We're  in  a  trap  here,  and  helpless." 

"  Oh,  just  let  me  jump  out  among  'em  and  begin 
the  fireworks.  Those  I  didn't  shoot  would  die  of 
fright.  Imagine  scouts  scouring  the  woods  with  a 
lantern — with  a  lantern,  Renny !  Think  of  that  ! 
Oh,  this  is  pie !  Let  me  at  'em." 

"  Hush  1     Keep  quiet !     They'll  hear  you." 

"  Tim,  bring  the  lantern  round  to  this  side."  The 
blur  of  light  moved  along  the  canvas.  "  There's  a 
man  with  his  back  against  the  wall  of  the  tent.  Just 
touch  him  up  with  your  bayonet,  Murphy,  and  let 
him  know  we're  here." 

"  There  may  be  twenty  in  the  tent,"  said  Murphy 
cautiously. 

"  Do  what  I  tell  you,"  answered  the  man  in  com- 
mand. 

Murphy  progged  his  bayonet  through  the  canvas, 
and  sunk  the  deadly  point  of  the  weapon  into  the 
bag  of  potatoes. 

"  Faith,  he  sleeps  sound,"  said  Murphy  with  a 
tremor  of  fear  in  his  voice,  as  there  was  no  demon- 
stration on  the  part  of  the  bag. 

The  voice  of  Yates  rang  out  from  the  interior  of 
the  tent : 

"  What  the  old  Harry  do  you  fellows  think  you're 
doing,  anyhow  ?  What's  the  matter  with  you  ? 
What  do  you  want  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  broken  only  by  a 
nervous  scuffling  of  feet  and  the  clicking  of  gun- 
locks. 


196        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  How  many  are  there  of  you  in  there  ?  "  said  the 
stern  voice  of  the  chief. 

"  Two,  if  you  want  to  know,  both  unarmed,  and 
one  ready  to  fight  the  lot  of  you  if  you  are  anxious 
for  a  scrimmage." 

"  Come  out  one  by  one,"  was  the  next  command. 

"  We'll  come  out  one  by  one,"  said  Yates,  emerg- 
ing in  his  shirt  sleeves,  "  but  you  can't  expect  us  to 
keep  it  up  long,  as  there  are  only  two  of  us." 

The  professor  next  appeared,  with  his  coat  on. 
The  situation  certainly  did  not  look  inviting.  The 
lantern  on  the  ground  threw  up  a  pallid  glow  on  the 
severe  face  of  the  commander,  as  the  footlights 
might  illuminate  the  figure  of  a  brigand  in  a  wood 
on  the  stage.  The  face  of  the  officer  showed  that 
he  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  importance  and 
danger  of  his  position.  Yates  glanced  about  him 
with  a  smile,  all  his  recent  dejection  gone  now  that 
he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  row. 

"Which  is  Murphy,"  he  said,  "and  which  is 
Doolin  ?  Hello,  alderman  !  "  he  cried,  as  his  eyes 
rested  on  one  tall,  strapping,  red-haired  man  who 
held  his  bayonet  ready  to  charge,  with  a  fierce  deter- 
mination in  his  countenance  that  might  have  made  an 
opponent  quail.  "  When  did  you  leave  New  York  ? 
and  who's  running  the  city  now  that  you're  gone  ?  " 

The  men  had  evidently  a  sense  of  humour,  in  spite 
of  their  bloodthirsty  business,  for  a  smile  flickered 
on  their  faces  in  the  lantern  light,  and  several  bay- 
onets were  unconsciously  lowered.  But  the  hard 
face  of  the  commander  did  not  relax. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         197 

"  You  are  doing  yourself  no  good  by  your  talk," 
he  said  solemnly.  "  What  you  say  will  be  used 
against  you." 

"  Yes,  and  what  you  do  will  be  used  against  you  ; 
and  don't  forget  that  fact.  It's  you  who  are  in  dan- 
ger— not  I.  You  are,  at  this  moment,  making  about 
the  biggest  ass  of  yourself  there  is  in  Canada." 

"  Pinion  these  men  !  "  cried  the  captain  gruffly. 

"  Pinion  nothing !  "  shouted  Yates,  shaking  off  the 
grasp  of  a  man  who  had  sprung  to  his  side.  But 
both  Yates  and  Renmark  were  speedily  overpowered  ; 
and  then  an  unseen  difficulty  presented  itself. 
Murphy  pathetically  remarked  that  they  had  no 
rope.  The  captain  was  a  man  of  resource. 

"  Cut  enough  rope  from  the  tent  to  tie  them." 

"  And  when  you're  at  it,  Murphy,"  said  Yates, 
"  cut  off  enough  more  to  hang  yourself  with.  You'll 
need  it  before  long.  And  remember  that  any  dam- 
age you  do  to  that  tent  you'll  have  to  pay  for.  It's 
hired." 

Yates  gave  them  all  the  trouble  he  could  while 
they  tied  his  elbows  and  wrists  together,  offering 
sardonic  suggestions  and  cursing  their  clumsiness. 
Renmark  submitted  quietly.  When  the  operation 
was  finished  the  professor  said  with  the  calm  confi- 
dence of  one  who  has  an  empire  behind  him  and 
knows  it : 

"  I  warn  you,  sir,  that  this  outrage  is  committed 
on  British  soil ;  and  that  I,  on  whom  it  is  committed, 
am  a  British  subject." 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  Renmark,  if  you  find  it  im- 


198          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

possible  to  keep  your  mouth  shut,  do  not  use  the 
word  '  subject,'  but  '  citizen.'  " 

"  I  am  satisfied  with  the  word,  and  with  the  pro- 
tection given  to  those  who  use  it." 

"  Look  here,  Renmark ;  you  had  better  let  me  do 
the  talking.  You  will  only  put  your  foot  in  it.  I 
know  the  kind  of  men  I  have  to  deal  with  ;  you  evi- 
dently don't." 

In  tying  the  professor  they  came  upon  the  pistol 
in  his  coat-pocket.  Murphy  held  it  up  to  the  light. 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  were  unarmed  ?  "  re- 
marked the  captain  severely,  taking  the  revolver  in 
his  hand. 

"  I  was  unarmed.  The  revolver  is  mine,  but  the 
professor  would  not  let  me  use  it.  If  he  had,  all  of 
you  would  be  running  for  dear  life  through  the 
woods." 

"  You  admit  that  you  are  a  British  subject  ?  "  said 
the  captain  to  Renmark,  ignoring  Yates. 

"  He  doesn't  admit  it,  he  brags  of  it,"  said  the 
latter  before  Renmark  could  speak.  "  You  can't 
scare  him  ;  so  quit  this  fooling,  and  let  us  know  how 
long  we  are  to  stand  here  trussed  up  like  this." 

"  I  propose,  captain,"  said  the  red-headed  man, 
"  that  we  shoot  these  men  where  they  stand,  and  re- 
port to  the  general.  They  are  spies.  They  are 
armed,  and  they  denied  it.  It's  according  to  the 
rules  of  war,  captain." 

"  Rules  of  war  ?  What  do  you  know  of  the  rules 
of  war,  you  red-headed  Senegambian  ?  Rules  of 
Hoyle !  Your  line  is  digging  sewers,  I  imagine. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         199 

Come,  captain,  undo  these  ropes,  and  make  up  your 
mind  quickly.  Trot  us  along  to  General  O'Neill  just 
as  fast  as  you  can.  The  sooner  you  get  us  there  the 
more  time  you  will  have  for  being  sorry  over  what 
you  have  done." 

The  captain  still  hesitated,  and  looked  from  one 
to  the  other  of  his  men,  as  if  to  make  up  his  mind 
whether  they  would  obey  him  if  he  went  to  extremi- 
ties. Yates*  quick  eye  noted  that  the  two  prisoners 
had  nothing  to  hope  for,  even  from  the  men  who 
smiled.  The  shooting  of  two  unarmed  and  bound 
men  seemed  to  them  about  the  correct  way  of  begin- 
ning a  great  struggle  for  freedom. 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain  at  length,  "  we  must  do 
it  in  proper  form,  so  I  suppose  we  should  have  a 
court-martial.  Are  you  agreed?" 

They  were  unanimously  agreed. 

"  Look  here,"  cried  Yates,  and  there  was  a  certain 
impressiveness  in  his  voice  in  spite  of  his  former 
levity;  "  this  farce  has  gone  just  as  far  as  it  is  going. 
Go  inside  the  tent,  there,  and  in  my  coat-pocket  you 
will  find  a  telegram,  the  first  of  a  dozen  or  two  re- 
ceived by  me  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours. 
Then  you  will  see  whom  you  propose  to  shoot." 

The  telegram  was  found,  and  the  captain  read  it, 
while  Tim  held  the  lantern.  He  looked  from  under 
his  knitted  brows  at  the  newspaper  man. 

"  Then  you  are  one  of  the  Argus  staff." 

"  I  am  chief  of  the  Argus  staff.  As  you  see,  five 
of  my  men  will  be  with  General  O'Neill  to-morrow. 
The  first  question  they  will  ask  him  will  be  '  Where 


200        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

is  Yates '  ?  The  next  thing  that  will  happen  will  be 
that  you  will  be  hanged  for  your  stupidity,  not  by 
Canada  nor  by  the  State  of  New  York,  but  by  your 
general,  who  will  curse  your  memory  ever  after. 
You  are  fooling  not  with  a  subject  this  time,  but 
with  a  citizen  ;  and  your  general  is  not  such  an  idiot 
as  to  monkey  with  the  United  States  Government ; 
and,  what  is  a  blamed  sight  worse,  with  the  great 
American  press.  Come,  captain,  we've  had  enough 
of  this.  Cut  these  cords  just  as  quickly  as  you  can, 
and  take  us  to  the  general.  We  were  going  to  see 
him  in  the  morning,  anyhow." 

"  But  this  man  says  he  is  a  Canadian." 

"  That's  all  right.  My  friend  is  me.  If  you  touch 
him,  you  touch  me.  Now,  hurry  up,  climb  down 
from  your  perch.  I  shall  have  enough  trouble  now, 
getting  the  general  to  forgive  all  the  blunders  you 
have  made  to-night,  without  your  adding  insult  to 
injury.  Tell  your  men  to  untie  us,  and  throw  the 
ropes  back  into  the  tent.  It  will  soon  be  daylight. 
Hustle,  and  let  us  be  off." 

"  Untie  them,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  sigh. 

Yates  shook  himself  when  his  arms  regained  their 
freedom. 

"  Now,  Tim,"  he  said,  "  run  into  that  tent  and  bring 
out  my  coat.  It's  chilly  here." 

Tim  instantly  obeyed  the  request,  and  helped 
Yates  on  with  his  coat. 

"  Good  boy  !  "  said  Yates.  "  You've  evidently 
been  porter  in  a  hotel." 

Tim  grinned. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         201 

"  I  think,"  said  Yates  meditatively,  "  that  if  you 
look  under  the  right-hand  bunk,  Tim,  you  will  find 
a  jug.  It  belongs  to  the  professor,  although  he  has 
hidden  it  under  my  bed  to  divert  suspicion  from 
himself.  Just  fish  it  out  and  bring  it  here.  It  is  not 
as  full  as  it  was,  but  there's  enough  to  go  round  if 
the  professor  does  not  take  more  than  his  share." 

The  gallant  troop  smacked  their  lips  in  anticipa- 
tion, and  Renmark  was  astonished  to  see  the  jar 
brought  forth.  "  You  first,  professor,"  said  Yates ; 
and  Tim  innocently  offered  him  the  vessel.  The 
learned  man  shook  his  head.  Yates  laughed,  and 
took  it  himself. 

"  Well,  here's  to  you,  boys,"  he  said.  "And  may 
you  all  get  back  as  safely  to  New  York  as  I  will." 
The  jar  passed  down  along  the  line,  until  Tim  finished 
its  contents. 

"  Now,  then,  for  the  camp  of  the  Fenian  army," 
cried  Yates,  taking  Ren  mark's  arm  ;  and  they  began 
their  march  through  the  woods.  "  Great  Caesar ! 
Stilly,"  he  continued  to  his  friend,  "  this  is  rest  and 
quiet  with  a  vengeance,  isn't  it  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  Fenians,  determining  to  put  their  best  foot 
foremost  in  the  presence  of  their  prisoners,  tried  at 
first  to  maintain  something  like  military  order  in 
marching  through  the  woods.  They  soon  found, 
however,  that  this  was  a  difficult  thing  to  do.  Cana- 
dian forests  are  not  as  trimly  kept  as  English  parks. 
Tim  walked  on  ahead  with  the  lantern,  but  three 
times  he  tumbled  over  some  obstruction,  and  dis- 
appeared suddenly  from  view,  uttering  maledictions. 
His  final  effort  in  this  line  was  a  triumph.  He  fell 
over  the  lantern  and  smashed  it.  When  all  attempts 
at  reconstruction  failed,  the  party  tramped  on  in  go- 
as-you-please  fashion,  and  found  they  did  better 
without  the  light  than  with  it.  In  fact,  although 
it  was  not  yet  four  o'clock,  daybreak  was  already 
filtering  through  among  the  trees,  and  the  woods 
were  perceptibly  lighter. 

"  We  must  be  getting  near  the  camp,"  said  the 
captain. 

"  Will  I  shout,  sir?  "  asked  Murphy. 

"  No,  no  ;  we  can't  miss  it.  Keep  on  as  you  are 
doing." 

They  were  nearer  the  camp  than  they  suspected. 
As  they  blundered  on  among  the  crackling  under- 
brush and  dry  twigs  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle  echoed 
202 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         203 

through  the  forest,  and  a  bullet  whistled  above  their 
heads. 

"  Fat  the  devil  are  you  foiring  at,  Mike  Lynch  ?  " 
cried  the  alderman,  who  recognised  the  shooter,  now 
rapidly  falling  back. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?  "  said  the  sentry,  stopping  in 
his  flight.  The  captain  strode  angrily  toward  him. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  firing  like  that  ?  Don't 
you  know  enough  to  ask  for  the  countersign  before 
shooting?" 

"  Sure,  I  forgot  about  it,  captain,  entirely.  But, 
then,  ye  see,  I  never  can  hit  anything ;  so  it's  little 
difference  it  makes." 

The  shot  had  roused  the  camp,  and  there  was  now 
wild  commotion,  everybody  thinking  the  Canadians 
were  upon  them. 

A  strange  sight  met  the  eye  of  Yates  and  Ren- 
mark.  Both  were  astonished  to  see  the  number  of 
men  that  O'Neill  had  under  his  command.  They 
found  a  motley  crowd.  Some  tattered  United  States 
uniforms  were  among  them,  but  the  greater  number 
were  dressed  as  ordinary  individuals,  although  a  few 
had  trimmings  of  green  braid  on  their  clothes. 
Sleeping  out  for  a  couple  of  nights  had  given  the 
gathering  the  unkempt  appearance  of  a  great  com- 
pany of  tramps.  The  officers  were  indistinguishable 
from  the  men  at  first,  but  afterward  Yates  noticed 
that  they,  mostly  in  plain  clothes  and  slouch  hats, 
had  sword  belts  buckled  around  them ;  and  one  or 
two  had  swords  that  had  evidently  seen  service  in 
the  United  States  cavalry. 


204        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  It's  all  right,  boys,"  cried  the  captain  to  the 
excited  mob.  "  It  was  only  that  fool  Lynch  who 
fired  at  us.  There's  nobody  hurt.  Where's  the 
general?" 

"  Here  he  comes,"  said  half  a  dozen  voices  at 
once,  and  the  crowd  made  way  for  him. 

General  O'Neill  was  dressed  in  ordinary  citizen's 
costume,  and  did  not  wear  even  a  sword  belt.  On 
his  head  of  light  hair  was  a  black  soft  felt  hat.  His 
face  was  pale,  and  covered  with  freckles.  He  looked 
more  like  a  clerk  from  a  grocery  store  than  the  com- 
mander of  an  army.  He  was  evidently  somewhere 
between  thirty-five  and  forty  years  of  age. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  he  said.  "Why  are  you 
back?  Any  news?" 

The  captain  saluted,  military  fashion,  and  replied  : 

"  We  took  two  prisoners,  sir.  They  were  en- 
camped in  a  tent  in  the  woods.  One  of  them  says 
he  is  an  American  citizen,  and  says  he  knows  you, 
so  I  brought  them  in." 

"  I  wish  you  had  brought  in  the  tent,  too,"  said 
the  general  with  a  wan  smile.  "  It  would  be  an  im- 
provement on  sleeping  in  the  open  air.  Are  these 
the  prisoners?  I  don't  know  either  of  them." 

"  The  captain  makes  a  mistake  in  saying  that  I 
claimed  a  personal  acquaintance  with  you,  general. 
What  I  said  was  that  you  would  recognise,  some- 
what quicker  than  he  did,  who  I  was,  and  the  desir- 
ability of  treating  me  with  reasonable  decency. 
Just  show  the  general  that  telegram  you  took  from 
my  coat-pocket,  captain." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         205 

The  paper  was  produced  and  O'Neill  read  it  over 
once  or  twice. 

"  You  are  on  the  New  York  Argus,  then  ?  " 

"  Very  much  so,  general." 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  been  roughly  used  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  merely  tied  up  in  a  hard  knot,  and 
threatened  with  shooting — that's  all." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  that.  Still,  you  must 
make  some  allowance  at  a  time  like  this.  If  you 
will  come  with  me,  I  will  write  you  a  pass  which 
will  prevent  any  similar  mistake  happening  in  the 
future."  The  general  led  the  way  to  a  smouldering 
camp-fire,  where,  out  of  a  valise,  he  took  writing 
materials  and,  using  the  valise  as  a  desk,  began  to 
write.  After  he  had  written  "  Headquarters  of  the 
Grand  Army  of  the  Irish  Republic  "  he  looked  up, 
and  asked  Yates  his  Christian  name.  Being 
answered,  he  inquired  the  name  of  his  friend. 

"  I  want  nothing  from  you,"  interposed  Ren- 
mark.  "  Don't  put  my  name  on  the  paper." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Yates.  "  Never  mind 
him,  general.  He's  a  learned  man  who  doesn't 
know  when  to  talk  and  when  not  to.  As  you  march 
up  to  our  tent,  general,  you  will  see  an  empty  jug, 
which  will  explain  everything.  Renmark's  drunk, 
not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  upon  it ;  and  he  imagines 
himself  a  British  subject." 

The  Fenian  general  looked  up  at  the  professor. 

"  Are  you  a  Canadian  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly  I  am." 

"  Well,  in  that  case,  if  I  let  you  leave  camp,  you 


206         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

must  give  me  your  word  that,  should  you  fall  in 
with  the  enemy,  you  will  give  no  information  to 
them  of  our  position,  numbers,  or  of  anything  else 
you  may  have  seen  while  with  us." 

"  I  shall  not  give  my  word.  On  the  contrary,  if  I 
should  fall  in  with  the  Canadian  troops,  I  will  tell 
them  where  you  are,  that  you  are  from  eight  hun- 
dred to  one  thousand  strong,  and  the  worst  looking 
set  of  vagabonds  I  have  ever  seen  out  of  jail." 

General  O'Neill  frowned,  and  looked  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"  Do  you  realise  that  you  confess  to  being  a  spy, 
and  that  it  becomes  my  duty  to  have  you  taken  out 
and  shot  ?  " 

"  In  real  war,  yes.  But  this  is  mere  idiotic  fool- 
ing. All  of  you  that  don't  escape  will  be  either  in 
jail  or  shot  before  twenty-four  hours." 

"  Well,  by  the  gods,  it  won't  help  you  any.  I'll 
have  you  shot  inside  of  ten  minutes,  instead  of 
twenty-four  hours." 

"  Hold  on,  general,  hold  on  !  "  cried  Yates,  as  the 
angry  man  rose  and  confronted  the  two.  "  I  admit 
that  he  richly  deserves  shooting,  if  you  were  the 
fool-killer,  which  you  are  not.  But  it  won't  do.  I 
will  be  responsible  for  him.  Just  finish  that  pass 
for  me,  and  I  will  take  care  of  the  professor.  Shoot 
me  if  you  like,  but  don't  touch  him.  He  hasn't  any 
sense,  as  you  can  see  ;  but  I  am  not  to  blame  for 
that,  nor  are  you.  If  you  take  to  shooting  every- 
body who  is  an  ass,  general,  you  won't  have  any 
ammunition  left  with  which  to  conquer  Canada." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          207 

The  general  smiled  in  spite  of  himself,  and  re- 
sumed the  writing  of  the  pass.  "  There,"  he  said, 
handing  the  paper  to  Yates.  "  You  see,  we  always 
like  to  oblige  the  press.  I  will  risk  your  belligerent 
friend,  and  I  hope  you  will  exercise  more  control 
over  him,  if  you  meet  the  Canadians,  than  you  were 
able  to  exert  here.  Don't  you  think,  on  the  whole, 
you  had  better  stay  with  us?  We  are  going  to 
march  in  a  couple  of  hours,  when  the  men  have  had 
a  little  rest."  He  added  in  a  lower  voice,  so  that 
the  professor  could  not  hear :  "  You  didn't  see  any- 
thing of  the  Canadians,  I  suppose?" 

"  Not  a  sign.  No,  I  don't  think  I'll  stay.  There 
will  be  five  of  our  fellows  here  some  time  to-day,  I 
expect,  and  that  will  be  more  than  enough.  I'm 
really  here  on  a  vacation.  Been  ordered  rest  and 
quiet.  I'm  beginning  to  think  I  have  made  a  mis- 
take in  location." 

Yates  bade  good-bye  to  the  commander,  and 
walked  with  his  friend  out  of  the  camp.  They 
threaded  their  way  among  sleeping  men  and  groups 
of  stacked  guns.  On  the  top  of  one  of  the  bayonets 
was  hung  a  tall  silk  hat,  which  looked  most  incon- 
gruous in  such  a  place. 

"  I  think,"  said  Yates,  "  that  we  will  make  for  the 
Ridge  Road,  which  must  lie  somewhere  in  this 
direction.  It  will  be  easier  walking  than  through 
the  woods ;  and  besides,  I  want  to  stop  at  one  of 
the  farmhouses  and  get  some  breakfast.  I'm  as 
hungry  as  a  bear  after  tramping  so  long." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  the  professor  shortly. 


208         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

The  two  stumbled  along  until  they  reached  the 
edge  of  the  wood  ;  then,  crossing  some  open  fields, 
they  came  presently  upon  the  road,  near  the  spot 
where  the  fist-fight  had  taken  place  between  Yates 
and  Bartlett.  The  comrades,  now  with  greater  com- 
fort, walked  silently  along  the  road  toward  the 
west,  with  the  reddening  east  behind  them.  The 
whole  scene  was  strangely  quiet  and  peaceful,  and 
the  recollection  of  the  weird  camp  they  had  left  in 
the  woods  seemed  merely  a  bad  dream.  The  morn- 
ing air  was  sweet,  and  the  birds  were  beginning  to 
sing.  Yates  had  intended  to  give  the  professor  a 
piece  of  his  mind  regarding  the  lack  of  tact  and 
common  sense  displayed  by  Renmark  in  the  camp, 
but,  somehow,  the  scarcely  awakened  day  did  not 
lend  itself  to  controversy,  and  the  serene  stillness 
soothed  his  spirit.  He  began  to  whistle  softly  that 
popular  war  song,  "  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys 
are  marching,"  and  then  broke  in  with  the  question  : 

"  Say,  Renny,  did  you  notice  that  plug  hat  on 
the  bayonet  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  professor ;  "  and  I  saw  five 
others  scattered  around  the  camp." 

"  Jingo !  you  were  observant.  I  can  imagine 
nothing  quite  so  ridiculous  as  a  man  going  to  war  in 
a  tall  silk  hat." 

The  professor  made  no  reply,  and  Yates  changed 
his  whistling  to  "  Rally  round  the  flag." 

"  I  presume,"  he  said  at  length,  "  there  is  little  use 
in  attempting  to  improve  the  morning  hour  by  try- 
ing to  show  you,  Renmark,  what  a  fool  you  made  of 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         209 

yourself   in   the   camp  ?     Your   natural    diplomacy 
seemed  to  be  slightly  off  the  centre." 

"  I  do  not  hold  diplomatic  relations  with  thieves 
and  vagabonds." 

"  They  may  be  vagabonds  ;  but  so  am  I,  for  that 
matter.  They  may  also  be  well-meaning,  mistaken 
men  ;  but  I  do  not  think  they  are  thieves." 

"  While  you  were  talking  with  the  so-called  gen- 
eral, one  party  came  in  with  several  horses  that  had 
been  stolen  from  the  neighbouring  farmers,  and  an- 
other party  started  out  to  get  some  more." 

"  Oh,  that  isn't  stealing,  Renmark ;  that's  requisi- 
tioning. You  mustn't  use  such  reckless  language. 
I  imagine  the  second  party  has  been  successful ;  for 
here  are  three  of  them  all  mounted." 

The  three  horsemen  in  question  stopped  their 
steeds  at  the  sight  of  the  two  men  coming  round  the 
bend  of  the  road,  and  awaited  their  approach.  Like 
so  many  of  the  others,  they  wore  no  uniform,  but 
two  of  them  held  revolvers  in  their  hands  ready  for 
action.  The  one  who  had  no  visible  revolver  moved 
his  horse  up  the  middle  of  the  road  toward  the  pe- 
destrians, the  other  two  taking  positions  on  each 
side  of  the  waggon  way. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  Where  do  you  come  from,  and 
where  are  you  going?"  cried  the  foremost  horse- 
man, as  the  two  walkers  came  within  talking  distance. 

"  It's  all  right,  commodore,"  said  Yates  jauntily, 
"  and  the  top  of  the  morning   to    you.      We   are 
hungry  pedestrians.     We  have  just  come  from  the 
camp,  and  we  are  going  to  get  something  to  eat." 
14 


210        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  I  must  have  a  more  satisfactory  answer  than 
that." 

"  Well,  here  you  have  it,  then,"  answered  Yates, 
pulling  out  his  folded  pass,  and  handing  it  up  to  the 
horseman.  The  man  read  it  carefully.  "  You  find 
that  all  right,  I  expect  ?  " 

"  Right  enough  to  cause  your  immediate  arrest." 

"  But  the  general  said  we  were  not  to  be  molested 
further.  That  is  in  his  own  handwriting." 

"  I  presume  it  is,  and  all  the  worse  for  you.  His 
handwriting  does  not  run  quite  as  far  as  the  Queen's 
writ  in  this  country  yet.  I  arrest  you  in  the  name 
of  the  Queen.  Cover  these  men  with  your  revolvers, 
and  shoot  them  down  if  they  make  any  resistance." 
So  saying,  the  rider  slipped  from  his  horse,  whipped 
out  of  his  pocket  a  pair  of  handcuffs  joined  by  a 
short,  stout  steel  chain,  and,  leaving  his  horse  stand- 
ing, grasped  Renmark's  wrist. 

"  I'm  a  Canadian,"  said  the  professor,  wrenching 
his  wrist  away.  "You  mustn't  put  handcuffs  on 
me." 

"  You  are  in  very  bad  company,  then.  I  am  a 
constable  of  this  county  ;  if  you  are  what  you  say, 
you  will  not  resist  arrest." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  but  you  mustn't  handcuff 
me." 

"  Oh,  mustn't  I  ?  "  And,  with  a  quick  movement 
indicative  of  long  practice  with  resisting  criminals, 
the  constable  deftly  slipped  on  one  of  the  clasps, 
which  closed  with  a  sharp  click  and  stuck  like  a 
burr. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          211 

Renmark  became  deadly  pale,  and  there  was  a 
dangerous  glitter  in  his  eyes.  He  drew  back  his 
clinched  fist,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  cocked 
revolver  was  edging  closer  and  closer  to  him,  and 
the  constable  held  his  struggling  manacled  hand 
with  grim  determination. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  Yates,  preventing  the  professor 
from  striking  the  representative  of  the  law.  "  Don't 
shoot,"  he  shouted  to  the  man  on  horseback ;  "  it 
is  all  a  little  mistake  that  will  be  quickly  put  right. 
You  are  three  armed  and  mounted  men,  and  we  are 
only  two,  unarmed  and  on  foot.  There  is  no  need 
of  any  revolver  practice.  Now,  Renmark,  you  are 
more  of  a  rebel  at  the  present  moment  than  O'Neill. 
He  owes  no  allegiance,  and  you  do.  Have  you  no 
respect  for  the  forms  of  law  and  order  ?  You  are  an 
anarchist  at  heart,  for  all  your  professions.  You 
•would  sing  '  God  save  the  Queen ! '  in  the  wrong 
place  a  while  ago,  so  now  be  satisfied  that  you  have 
got  her,  or,  rather,  that  she  has  got  you.  Now, 
constable,  do  you  want  to  hitch  the  other  end  of 
that  arrangement  on  my  wrist  ?  or  have  you  another 
pair  for  my  own  special  use  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  your  wrist,  if  you  please." 

"  All  right ;  here  you  are."  Yates  drew  back  his 
coat  sleeve,  and  presented  his  wrist.  The  dangling 
cuff  was  speedily  clamped  upon  it.  The  constable 
mounted  the  patient  horse  that  stood  waiting  for 
him,  watching  him  all  the  while  with  intelligent  eye. 
The  two  prisoners,  handcuffed  together,  took  the 
middle  of  the  road,  with  a  horseman  on  each  side  of 


212         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

them,  the  constable  bringing  up  the  rear ;  thus  they 
marched  on,  the  professor  gloomy  from  the  indignity 
put  upon  them,  and  the  newspaperman  as  joyous  as 
the  now  thoroughly  awakened  birds.  The  scouts 
concluded  to  go  no  farther  toward  the  enemy,  but 
to  return  to  the  Canadian  forces  with  their  prisoners. 
They  marched  down  the  road,  all  silent  except 
Yates,  who  enlivened  the  morning  air  with  the  sing- 
ing of  "John  Brown." 

**  Keep  quiet,"  said  the  constable  curtly. 

'*  All  right,  I  will.  But  look  here ;  we  shall  pass 
shortly  the  house  of  a  friend.  We  want  to  go  and 
get  something  to  eat." 

"  You  will  get  nothing  to  eat  until  I  deliver  you 
up  to  the  officers  of  the  volunteers." 

"  And  where,  may  I  ask,  are  they  ?  " 

"You  may  ask,  but  I  will  not  answer." 

"  Now,  Renmark,"  said  Yates  to  his  companion, 
"the  tough  part  of  this  episode  is  that  we  shall 
have  to  pass  Bartlett's  house,  and  feast  merely  on 
the  remembrance  of  the  good  things  which  Mrs. 
Bartlett  is  always  glad  to  bestow  on  the  wayfarer. 
I  call  that  refined  cruelty." 

As  they  neared  the  Bartlett  homestead  they 
caught  sight  of  Miss  Kitty  on  the  veranda  shading 
her  eyes  from  the  rising  sun,  and  gazing  earnestly 
at  the  approaching  squad.  As  soon  as  she  recog- 
nised the  group  she  disappeared,  with  a  cry,  into 
the  house.  Presently  there  came  out  Mrs.  Bartlett, 
followed  by  her  son,  and  more  slowly  by  the  old 
man  himself, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         213 

They  all  came  down  to  the  gate  and  waited. 

"  Hello,  Mrs.  Bartlett ! "  cried  Yates  cheerily. 
"  You  see,  the  professor  has  got  his  deserts  at  last ; 
and  I,  being  in  bad  company,  share  his  fate,  like  the 
good  dog  Tray." 

"  What's  all  this  about  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett. 

The  constable,  who  knew  both  the  farmer  and  his 
wife,  nodded  familiarly  to  them.  "  They're  Fenian 
prisoners,"  he  said. 

"  Nonsense !  "  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett — the  old  man, 
as  usual,  keeping  his  mouth  grimly  shut  when  his 
wife  was  present  to  do  the  talking — "  they're  not 
Fenians.  They've  been  camping  on  our  farm  for  a 
week  or  more." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  the  constable  firmly,  "  but  I 
have  the  best  of  evidence  against  them  ;  and  if  I'm 
not  very  much  mistaken,  they'll  hang  for  it." 

Miss  Kitty,  who  had  been  partly  visible  through 
the  door,  gave  a  cry  of  anguish  at  this  remark,  and 
disappeared  again. 

"  We  have  just  escaped  being  hanged  by  the 
Fenians  themselves,  Mrs.  Bartlett,  and  I  hope  the 
same  fate  awaits  us  at  the  hands  of  the  Canadians." 

"What!  hanging?" 

"  No,  no ;  just  escaping.  Not  that  I  object  to 
being  hanged, —  I  hope  I  am  not  so  pernickety  as  all 
that, — but,  Mrs.  Bartlett,  you  will  sympathise  with 
me  when  I  tell  you  that  the  torture  I  am  suffering 
from  at  this  moment  is  the  remembrance  of  the 
good  things  to  eat  which  I  have  had  in  your  house. 
I  am  simply  starved  to  death,  Mrs.  Bartlett,  and  this 


214        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

hard-hearted  constable  refuses  to  allow  me  to  ask 
you  for  anything." 

Mrs.  Bartlett  came  out  through  the  gate  to  the 
road  in  a  visible  state  of  indignation. 

"  Stoliker,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I'm  ashamed  of  you  ! 
You  may  hang  a  man  if  you  like,  but  you  have  no 
right  to  starve  him.  Come  straight  in  with  me," 
she  said  to  the  prisoners. 

"  Madam,"  said  Stoliker  severely,  "  you  must  not 
interfere  with  the  course  of  the  law." 

"  The  course  of  stuff  and  nonsense ! "  cried  the 
angry  woman.  "  Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  you, 
Sam  Stoliker?  Haven't  I  chased  you  out  of  this 
very  orchard  when  you  were  a  boy  trying  to  steal 
my  apples  ?  Yes,  and  boxed  your  ears,  too,  when  I 
caught  you,  and  then  was  fool  enough  to  fill  your 
pockets  with  the  best  apples  on  the  place,  after  giv- 
ing you  what  you  deserved.  Course  of  the  law, 
indeed !  I'll  box  your  ears  now  if  you  say  any- 
thing more.  Get  down  off  your  horse,  and  have 
something  to  eat  yourself.  I  dare  say  you  need 
it." 

"  This  is  what  I  call  a  rescue,"  whispered  Yates  to 
his  linked  companion. 

What  is  a  stern  upholder  of  the  law  to  do  when 
the  interferer  with  justice  is  a  determined  and  angry 
woman  accustomed  to  having  her  own  way  ?  Sto- 
liker looked  appealingly  at  Hiram,  as  the  supposed 
head  of  the  house,  but  the  old  man  merely  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  as  much  as  to  say :  "  You  see  how  it 
is  yourself.  I  am  helpless." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         215 

Mrs.  Bartlett  marched  her  prisoners  through  the 
gate  and  up  to  the  house. 

"  All  I  ask  of  you  now,"  said  Yates,  "  is  that  you 
will  give  Renmark  and  me  seats  together  at  the 
table.  We  cannot  bear  to  be  separated,  even  for  an 
instant." 

Having  delivered  her  prisoners  to  the  custody  of 
her  daughter,  at  the  same  time  admonishing  her  to 
get  breakfast  as  quickly  as  possible,  Mrs.  Bartlett 
went  to  the  gate  again.  The  constable  was  still  on 
his  horse.  Hiram  had  asked,  by  way  of  treating 
him  to  a  noncontroversial  subject,  if  this  was  the 
colt  he  had  bought  from  old  Brown,  on  the  second 
concession,  and  Stoliker  had  replied  that  it  was. 
Hiram  was  saying  he  thought  he  recognised  the  horse 
by  his  sire  when  Mrs.  Bartlett  broke  in  upon  them. 

"  Come,  Sam,"  she  said,  "  no  sulking,  you  know. 
Slip  off  the  horse  and  come  in.  How's  your 
mother  ?  " 

"  She's  pretty  well,  thank  you,"  said  Sam  sheep 
ishly,  coming  down  on  his  feet  again. 

Kitty  Bartlett,  her  gaiety  gone  and  her  eyes  red, 
waited  on  the  prisoners,  but  absolutely  refused  to 
serve  Sam  Stoliker,  on  whom  she  looked  with  the 
utmost  contempt,  not  taking  into  account  the  fact 
that  the  poor  young  man  had  been  merely  doing  his 
duty,  and  doing  it  well. 

"  Take  off  these  handcuffs,  Sam,"  said  Mrs.  Bart- 
lett, "  until  they  have  breakfast,  at  least." 

Stoliker  produced  a  key  and  unlocked  the  mana- 
cles, slipping  them  into  his  pocket. 


216        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Ah,  now  !  "  said  Yates,  looking  at  his  red  wrist, 
"  we  can  breathe  easier ;  and  I,  for  one,  will  eat 
more." 

The  professor  said  nothing.  The  iron  had  not 
only  encircled  his  wrist,  but  had  entered  his  soul  as 
well.  Although  Yates  tried  to  make  the  early  meal 
as  cheerful  as  possible,  it  was  rather  a  gloomy  festi- 
val. Stoliker  began  to  feel,  poor  man,  that  the 
paths  of  duty  were  unpopular.  Old  Hiram  could 
always  be  depended  upon  to  add  sombreness  and 
taciturnity  to  a  wedding  feast ;  the  professor,  never 
the  liveliest  of  companions,  sat  silent,  with  clouded 
brow,  and  vexed  even  the  cheerful  Mrs.  Bartlett  by 
showing  no  appreciable  appetite.  When  the  hur- 
ried meal  was  over,  Yates  noticing  that  Miss  Kitty 
had  left  the  room,  sprang  up  and  walked  toward  the 
kitchen  door.  Stoliker  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant, 
and  made  as  though  to  follow  him. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  professor  sharply,  speaking 
for  the  first  time.  "  He  is  not  going  to  escape. 
Don't  be  afraid.  He  has  done  nothing,  and  has  no 
fear  of  punishment.  It  is  always  the  innocent  whom 
you  stupid  officials  arrest.  The  woods  all  round 
you  are  full  of  real  Fenians,  but  you  take  excellent 
care  to  keep  out  of  their  way,  and  give  your  atten- 
tion to  molesting  perfectly  inoffensive  people." 

"  Good  for  you,  professor  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Bartlett 
emphatically.  "  That's  the  truth,  if  ever  it  was 
spoken.  But  are  there  Fenians  in  the  woods  ?" 

"  Hundreds  of  them.  They  came  on  us  in  the 
tent  about  three  o'clock  this  morning, — or  at  least 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         217 

an  advance  guard  did, — and  after  talking  of  shooting 
us  where  we  stood  they  marched  us  to  the  Fenian 
camp  instead.  Yates  got  a  pass,  written  by  the 
Fenian  general,  so  that  we  should  not  be  troubled 
again.  That  is  the  precious  document  which  this 
man  thinks  is  deadly  evidence.  He  never  asked 
us  a  question,  but  clapped  the  handcuffs  on  our 
wrist,  while  the  other  fools  held  pistols  to  our 
heads." 

"  It  isn't  my  place  to  ask  questions,"  retorted 
Stoliker  doggedly.  "  You  can  tell  all  this  to  the 
colonel  or  the  sheriff :  if  they  let  you  go,  I'll  say 
nothing  against  it." 

Meanwhile,  Yates  had  made  his  way  into  the 
kitchen,  taking  the  precaution  to  shut  the  door  after 
him.  Kitty  Bartlett  looked  quickly  round  as  the 
door  closed.  Before  she  could  speak  the  young 
man  caught  her  by  the  plump  shoulders — a  thing 
which  he  certainly  had  no  right  to  do. 

"  Miss  Kitty  Bartlett,"  he  said,  "  you've  been 
crying." 

"  I  haven't ;  and  if  I  had,  it  is  nothing  to  you." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  so  sure  about  that.  Don't  deny  it. 
For  whom  were  you  crying?  The  professor?" 

"  No,  nor  for  you  either,  although  I  suppose  you 
have  conceit  enough  to  think  so." 

"  Me  conceited  ?  Anything  but  that.  Come,  now, 
Kitty, for  whom  were  you  crying?  I  must  know." 

"  Please  let  me  go,  Mr.  Yates,"  said  Kitty,  with  an 
effort  at  dignity. 

44  Dick  is  my  name,  Kit." 


218        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Well,  mine  is  not  Kit." 

"  You're  quite  right.  Now  that  you  mention  it, 
I  will  call  you  Kitty,  which  is  much  prettier  than 
the  abbreviation." 

"  I  did  not  '  mention  it.'  Please  let  me  go.  No- 
body has  the  right  to  call  me  anything  but  Miss 
Bartlett;  that  is,  you  haven't,  anyhow." 

"  Well,  Kitty,  don't  you  think  it  is  about  time  to 
give  somebody  the  right  ?  Why  won't  you  look  up 
at  me,  so  that  I  can  tell  for  sure  whether  I  should 
have  accused  you  of  crying?  Look  up — Miss 
Bartlett." 

"Please  let  me  go,  Mr.  Yates.  Mother  will  be 
here  in  a  minute." 

"  Mother  is  a  wise  and  thoughtful  woman.  We'll 
risk  mother.  Beside,  I'm  not  in  the  least  afraid  of 
her,  and  I  don't  believe  you  are.  I  think  she  is  at 
this  moment  giving  poor  Mr.  Stoliker  a  piece  of  her 
mind  ;  otherwise,  I  imagine,  he  would  have  followed 
me.  I  saw  it  in  his  eye." 

"  I  hate  that  man,"  said  Kitty  inconsequently. 

"  I  like  him,  because  he  brought  me  here,  even  if 
I  was  handcuffed.  Kitty,  why  don't  you  look  up  at 
me  ?  Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  What  should  I  be  afraid  of  ?  "  'asked  Kitty,  giv- 
ing him  one  swift  glance  from  her  pretty  blue  eyes. 
"  Not  of  you,  I  hope." 

"  Well,  Kitty,  I  sincerely  hope  not.  Now,  Miss 
Bartlett,  do  you  know  why  I  came  out  here  ?  " 

"  For  something  more  to  eat,  very  likely,"  said 
the  girl  mischievously. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         219 

"  Oh,  I  say,  that  to  a  man  in  captivity  is  both 
cruel  and  unkind.  Besides,  I  had  a  first-rate  break- 
fast, thank  you.  No  such  motive  drew  me  into  the 
kitchen.  But  I  will  tell  you.  You  shall  have  it 
from  my  own  lips.  That  was  the  reason  !  " 

He  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and  kissed  her 
before  she  knew  what  was  about  to  happen.  At 
least,  Yates,  with  all  his  experience,  thought  he  had 
taken  her  unawares.  Men  often  make  mistakes  in 
little  matters  of  this  kind.  Kitty  pushed  him  with 
apparent  indignation  from  her,  but  she  did  not  strike 
him  across  the  face,  as  she  had  done  before,  when  he 
merely  attempted  what  he  had  now  accomplished. 
Perhaps  this  was  because  she  had  been  taken  so 
completely  by  surprise. 

"  I  shall  call  my  mother,"  she  threatened. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  won't.  Besides,  she  wouldn't 
come."  Then  this  frivolous  young  man  began  to 
sing  in  a  low  voice  the  flippant  refrain,  "  Here's  to 
the  girl  that  gets  a  kiss,  and  runs  and  tells  her 
mother,"  ending  with  the  wish  that  she  should  live 
and  die  an  old  maid  and  never  get  another.  Kitty 
should  not  have  smiled,  but  she  did  ;  she  should 
have  rebuked  his  levity,  but  she  didn't. 

"  It  is  about  the  great  and  disastrous  consequences 
of  living  and  dying  an  old  maid  that  I  want  to  speak 
to  you.  I  have  a  plan  for  the  prevention  of  such  a 
catastrophe,  and  I  would  like  to  get  your  approval 
of  it." 

Yates  had  released  the  girl,  partly  because  she 
had  wrenched  herself  away  from  him,  and  partly  be- 


220         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

cause  he  heard  a  movement  in  the  dining-room,  and 
expected  the  entrance  of  Stoliker  or  some  of  the 
others.  Kitty  stood  with  her  back  to  the  table,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  a  spring  flower,  which  she  had  uncon- 
sciously taken  from  a  vase  standing  on  the  window- 
ledge.  She  smoothed  the  petals  this  way  and  that, 
and  seemed  so  much  interested  in  botanical  inves- 
tigation that  Yates  wondered  whether  she  was  paying 
attention  to  what  he  was  saying  or  not.  What  his 
plan  might  have  been  can  only  be  guessed ;  for  the 
Fates  ordained  that  they  should  be  interrupted  at 
this  critical  moment  by  the  one  person  on  earth  who 
could  make  Yates'  tongue  falter. 

The  outer  door  to  the  kitchen  burst  open,  and 
Margaret  Howard  stood  on  the  threshold,  her  lovely 
face  aflame  with  indignation,  and  her  dark  hair  down 
over  her  shoulders,  forming  a  picture  of  beauty  that 
fairly  took  Yates'  breath  away.  She  did  not  notice 
him. 

"  O  Kitty,"  she  cried,  "  those  wretches  have  stolen 
all  our  horses  !  Is  your  father  here?  " 

"  What  wretches  ? "  asked  Kitty,  ignoring  the 
question,  and  startled  by  the  sudden  advent  of  her 
friend. 

"  The  Fenians.  They  have  taken  all  the  horses 
that  were  in  the  fields,  and  your  horses  as  well.  So 
I  ran  over  to  tell  you." 

"  Have  they  taken  your  own  horse,  too  ?  " 

"  No.  I  always  keep  Gypsy  in  the  stable.  The 
thieves  did  not  come  near  the  house.  Oh,  Mr. 
Yates!  I  did  not  see  you."  And  Margaret's  hand, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS        221 

with  the  unconscious  vanity  of  a  woman,  sought  her 
dishevelled  hair,  which  Yates  thought  too  becoming 
ever  to  be  put  in  order  again. 

Margaret  reddened  as  she  realised,  from  Kitty's 
evident  embarrassment,  that  she  had  impulsively 
broken  in  upon  a  conference  of  two. 

"  I  must  tell  your  father  about  it,"  she  said  hur- 
riedly, and  before  Yates  could  open  the  door  she 
had  done  so  for  herself.  Again  she  was  taken  aback 
to  see  so  many  sitting  round  the  table. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  between  the  two  in 
the  kitchen,  but  the  spell  was  broken. 

"  I — I  don't  suppose  there  will  be  any  trouble 
about  getting  back  the  horses,"  said  Yates  hesitat- 
ingly. "  If  you  lose  them,  the  Government  will  have 
to  pay." 

"  I  presume  so,"  answered  Kitty  coldly ;  then : 
"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Yates ;  I  mustn't  stay  here  any 
longer.''  So  saying,  she  followed  Margaret  into  the 
other  room. 

Yates  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  All  his  old 
difficulties  of  preference  had  arisen  when  the  outer 
door  burst  open.  He  felt  that  he  had  had  a  narrow 
escape,  and  began  to  wonder  if  he  had  really  com- 
mitted himself.  Then  the  fear  swept  over  him  that 
Margaret  might  have  noticed  her  friend's  evident 
confusion,  and  surmised  its  cause.  He  wondered 
whether  this  would  help  him  or  hurt  him  with  Mar- 
garet, if  he  finally  made  up  his  mind  to  favour  her 
with  his  serious  attentions.  Still,  he  reflected  that, 
after  all,  they  were  both  country  girls,  and  would 


222         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

no  doubt  be  only  too  eager  to  accept  a  chance  to 
live  in  New  York.  Thus  his  mind  gradually  resumed 
its  normal  state  of  self-confidence ;  and  he  argued 
that,  whatever  Margaret's  suspicions  were,  they 
could  not  but  make  him  more  precious  in  her  eyes. 
He  knew  of  instances  where  the  very  danger  of 
losing  a  man  had  turned  a  woman's  wavering  mind 
entirely  in  that  man's  favour.  When  he  had  reached 
this  point,  the  door  from  the  dining-room  opened, 
and  Stoliker  appeared. 

"  We  are  waiting  for  you,"  said  the  constable. 

"  All  right.     I  am  ready." 

As  he  entered  the  room  he  saw  the  two  girls 
standing  together  talking  earnestly. 

"  I  wish  I  was  a  constable  for  twenty-four  hours," 
cried  Mrs.  Bartlett.  "  I  would  be  hunting  horse- 
thieves  instead  of  handcuffing  innocent  men." 

"  Come  along,"  saidt  he  impassive  Stoliker,  taking 
the  handcuffs  from  his  pocket. 

"  If  you  three  men,"  continued  Mrs.  Bartlett, 
"  cannot  take  these  two  to  camp,  or  to  jail,  or  any- 
where else,  without  handcuffing  them,  I'll  go  along 
with  you  myself  and  protect  you,  and  see  that  they 
don't  escape.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self, Sam  Stoliker,  if  you  have  any  manhood  about 
you — which  I  doubt." 

"  I  must  do  my  duty." 

The  professor  rose  from  his  chair.  "  Mr.  Stoliker," 
he  said  with  determination,  "  my  friend  and  myself 
will  go  with  you  quietly.  We  will  make  no  attempt 
to  escape,  as  we  have  done  nothing  to  make  us  fear 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         223 

investigation.  But  I  give  you  fair  warning  that  if 
you  attempt  to  put  a  handcuff  on  my  wrist  again  I 
will  smash  you." 

A  cry  of  terror  from  one  of  the  girls,  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  fight,  caused  the  professor  to  realise  where 
he  was.  He  turned  to  them  and  said  in  a  contrite 
voice : 

"  Oh  !  I  forgot  you  were  here.  I  sincerely  beg 
your  pardon." 

Margaret,  with  blazing  eyes,  cried : 

"  Don't  beg  my  pardon,  but — smash  him." 

Then  a  consciousness  of  what  she  had  said  over- 
came her,  and  the  excited  girl  hid  her  blushing  face 
on  her  friend's  shoulder,  while  Kitty  lovingly 
stroked  her  dark,  tangled  hair. 

Renmark  took  a  step  toward  them,  and  stopped. 
Yates,  with  his  usual  quickness,  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  his  cheery  voice  relieved  the  tension  of  the 
situation. 

"  Come,  come,  Stoliker,  don't  be  an  idiot.  I  do 
not  object  in  the  least  to  the  handcuffs  ;  and  if  you 
are  dying  to  handcuff  somebody,  handcuff  me.  It 
hasn't  struck  your  luminous  mind  that  you  have  not 
the  first  title  of  evidence  against  my  friend,  and 
that,  even  if  I  were  the  greatest  criminal  in  America, 
the  fact  of  his  being  with  me  is  no  crime.  The  truth 
is,  Stoliker,  that  I  wouldn't  be  in  your  shoes  for  a 
good  many  dollars.  You  talk  a  great  deal  about 
doing  your  duty,  but  you  have  exceeded  it  in  the 
case  of  the  professor.  I  hope  you  have  no  property  ; 
for  the  professor  can,  if  he  likes,  make  you  pay 


224        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

sweetly  for  putting  the  handcuffs  on  him  without  a 
warrant,  or  even  without  one  jot  of  evidence. 
What  is  the  penalty  for  false  arrest,  Hiram?"  con- 
tinued Yates,  suddenly  appealing  to  the  old  man. 
"  I  think  it  is  a  thousand  dollars." 

Hiram  said  gloomily  that  he  didn't  know.  Stoliker 
was  hit  on  a  tender  spot,  for  he  owned  a  farm. 

"  Better  apologise  to  the  professor  and  let  us  get 
along.  Good-bye,  all.  Mrs.  Bartlett,  that  breakfast 
was  the  very  best  I  ever  tasted." 

The  good  woman  smiled  and  shook  hands  with 
him. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Yates  ;  and  I  hope  you  will  soon 
come  back  to  have  another." 

Stoliker  slipped  the  handcuffs  into  his  pocket  again 
and  mounted  his  horse.  The  girls,  from  the  veran- 
da, watched  the  procession  move  up  the  dusty  road. 
They  were  silent,  and  had  even  forgotten  the  excit- 
ing event  of  the  stealing  of  the  horses. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHEN  the  two  prisoners,  with  their  three  cap- 
tors, came  in  sight  of  the  Canadian  volunteers,  they 
beheld  a  scene  which  was  much  more  military  than 
the  Fenian  camp.  They  were  promptly  halted  and 
questioned  by  a  picket  before  coming  to  the  main 
body ;  the  sentry  knew  enough  not  to  shoot  until 
he  had  asked  for  the  countersign.  Passing  the 
picket,  they  came  in  full  view  of  the  Canadian  force, 
the  men  of  which  looked  very  spick  and  span  in 
uniforms  which  seemed  painfully  new  in  the  clear 
light  of  the  fair  June  morning.  The  guns,  topped 
by  a  bristle  of  bayonets  which  glittered  as  the  ris- 
ing sun  shone  on  them,  were  stacked  with  neat  pre- 
cision here  and  there.  The  men  were  preparing  their 
breakfast,  and  a  temporary  halt  had  been  called  for 
that  purpose.  The  volunteers  were  scattered  by  the 
side  of  the  road  and  in  the  fields.  Renmark  recognised 
the  colours  of  the  regiment  from  his  own  city,  and 
noticed  that  there  was  with  it  a  company  that  was 
strange  to  him.  Although  led  to  the  camp  a  pris- 
oner, he  felt  a  glowing  pride  in  the  regiment  and  the 
trim  appearance  of  the  men — a  pride  that  was  both 
national  and  civic.  He  instinctively  held  himself 
more  erect  as  he  approached. 
15 


226         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Renmark,"  said  Yates,  looking  at  him  with  a 
smile,  "  you  are  making  a  thoroughly  British  mis- 
take." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     I  haven't  spoken." 

"  No,  but  I  see  it  in  your  eye.  You  are  underesti- 
mating the  enemy.  You  think  this  pretty  company 
is  going  to  walk  over  that  body  of  unkempt  tramps 
we  saw  in  the  woods  this  morning." 

"  I  do  indeed,  if  the  tramps  wait  to  be  walked 
over — which  I  very  much  doubt." 

"  That's  just  where  you  make  a  mistake.  Most  of 
these  are  raw  boys,  who  know  all  that  can  be  learned 
of  war  on  a  cricket  field.  They  will  be  the  worst 
whipped  set  of  young  fellows  before  night  that  this 
part  of  the  country  has  ever  seen.  Wait  till  they 
see  one  of  their  comrades  fall,  with  the  blood  gush- 
ing out  of  a  wound  in  his  breast.  If  they  don't  turn 
and  run,  then  I'm  a  Dutchman.  I've  seen  raw  re- 
cruits before.  They  should  have  a  company  of  older 
men  here  who  have  seen  service  to  steady  them. 
The  villains  we  saw  this  morning  were  sleeping  like 
logs,  in  the  damp  woods,  as  we  stepped  over  them. 
They  are  veterans.  What  will  be  but  a  mere  skir- 
mish to  them  will  seem  to  these  boys  the  most 
awful  tragedy  that  ever  happened.  Why,  many  of 
them  look  as  if  they  might  be  university  lads." 

"  They  are,"  said  Renmark,  with  a  pang  of  anguish. 

"  Well,  I  can't  see  what  your  stupid  government 
means  by  sending  them  here  alone.  They  should 
have  at  least  one  company  of  regulars  with  them." 

"  Probably  the  regulars  are  on  the  way." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         227 

"  Perhaps  ;  but  they  will  have  to  put  in  an  appear- 
ance mighty  sudden,  or  the  fight  will  be  over.  If 
these  boys  are  not  in  a  hurry  with  their  meal,  the 
Fenians  will  be  upon  them  before  they  know  it.  If 
there  is  to  be  a  fight,  it  will  be  before  a  very  few 
hours — before  one  hour  passes,  perhaps  ;  and  you 
are  going  to  see  a  miniature  Bull  Run." 

Some  of  the  volunteers  crowded  round  the  in- 
comers, eagerly  inquiring  for  news  of  the  enemy. 
The  Fenians  had  taken  the  precaution  to  cut  all  the 
telegraph  wires  leading  out  of  Fort  Erie,  and  hence 
those  in  command  of  the  companies  did  not  even 
know  that  the  enemy  had  left  that  locality.  The 
volunteers  were  now  on  their  way  to  a  point  where 
they  were  to  meet  Colonel  Peacocke's  force  of  reg- 
ular— sa  point  which  they  were  destined  never  to 
reach.  Stoliker  sought  an  officer  and  delivered  up 
his  prisoners,  together  with  the  incriminating  paper 
that  Yates  had  handed  to  him.  The  officer's  decision 
was  short  and  sharp,  as  military  decisions  are  gener- 
ally supposed  to  be.  He  ordered  the  constable  to 
take  both  the  prisoners  and  put  them  in  jail  at  Port 
Colborne.  There  was  no  time  now  for  an  inquiry 
into  the  case, — that  could  come  afterward, — and,  so 
long  as  the  men  were  safe  in  jail,  everything  would 
be  all  right.  To  this  the  constable  mildly  interposed 
two  objections.  In  the  first  place,  he  said,  he  was 
with  the  volunteers  not  in  his  capacity  as  constable, 
but  in  the  position  of  guide  and  man  who  knew  the 
country.  In  the  second  place,  there  was  no  jail  at 
Port  Colborne. 


228          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Where  is  the  nearest  jail  ?  " 

"  The  jail  of  the  county  is  at  Welland,  the  county 
town,"  replied  the  constable. 

"  Very  well ;  take  them  there." 

"  But  I  am  here  as  guide,"  repeated  Stoliker. 

The  officer  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "  You  haven't 
handcuffs  with  you,  I  presume  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have,"  said  Stoliker,  producing  the  imple- 
ments. 

"  Well,  then,  handcuff  them  together,  and  I  will 
send  one  of  the  company  over  to  Welland  with  them. 
How  far  is  it  across  country  ?  " 

Stoliker  told  him. 

The  officer  called  one  of  the  volunteers,  and  said 
to  him  : 

"  You  are  to  make  your  way  across  country  to 
Welland,  and  deliver  these  men  up  to  the  jailer 
there.  They  will  be  handcuffed  together,  but  you 
take  a  revolver  with  you,  and  if  they  give  you  any 
trouble,  shoot  them." 

The  volunteer  reddened,  and  drew  himself  up. 
"  I  am  not  a  policeman,"  he  said.  "  I  am  a  soldier." 

"  Very  well,  then,  your  first  duty  as  a  soldier  is 
to  obey  orders.  I  order  you  to  take  these  men  to 
Welland." 

The  volunteers  had  crowded  round  as  this  discus- 
sion went  on,  and  a  murmur  rose  among  them  at  the 
order  of  the  officer.  They  evidently  sympathised 
with  their  comrade's  objection  to  the  duties  of  a 
policeman.  One  of  them  made  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  and  cried : 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         229 

"  Hello  !  this  is  the  professor.  This  is  Mr.  Ren- 
mark.  He's  no  Fenian."  Two  or  three  more  of 
the  university  students  recognised  Renmark,  and, 
pushing  up  to  him,  greeted  him  warmly.  He  was 
evidently  a  favourite  with  his  class.  Among  others 
young  Howard  pressed  forward. 

"  It  is  nonsense,"  he  cried,  "talking  about  send- 
ing Professor  Renmark  to  jail !  He  is  no  more  a 
Fenian  than  Governor-General  Monck.  We'll  all  go 
bail  for  the  professor." 

The  officer  wavered.  "  If  you  know  him,"  he  said, 
"  that  is  a  different  matter.  But  this  other  man  has 
a  letter  from  the  commander  of  the  Fenians,  recom- 
mending him  to  the  consideration  of  all  friends  of 
the  Fenian  cause.  I  can't  let  him  go  free." 

"  Are  you  the  chief  in  command  here  ?  "  asked 
Renmark. 

"  No,  I  am  not." 

"  Mr.  Yates  is  a  friend  of  mine  who  is  here  with 
me  on  his  vacation.  He  is  a  New  York  journalist, 
and  has  nothing  in  common  with  the  invaders.  If 
you  insist  on  sending  him  to  Welland,  I  must  de- 
mand that  we  be  taken  before  the  officer  in  com- 
mand. In  any  case,  he  and  I  stand  or  fall  to- 
gether. '  am  exactly  as  guilty  or  innocent  as  he 
is." 

"  We  can't  bother  the  colonel  about  every  trivial- 
ity." 

"  A  man's  liberty  is  no  triviality.  What,  in  the 
name  of  common  sense,  are  you  fighting  for  but 
liberty?" 


230         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Thanks,  Renmark,  thanks,"  said  Yates ;  "  but  I 
don't  care  to  see  the  colonel,  and  I  shall  welcome 
Welland  jail.  I  am  tired  of  all  this  bother.  I  came 
here  for  rest  and  quiet,  and  I  am  going  to  have  them, 
if  I  have  to  go  to  jail  for  them.  I'm  coming  reluc- 
tantly to  the  belief  that  jail's  the  most  comfortable 
place  in  Canada,  anyhow." 

"  But  this  is  an  outrage,"  cried  the  professor  in. 
dignantly. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  replied  Yates  wearily ;  "  the 
woods  are  full  of  them.  There's  always  outrages 
going  on,  especially  in  so-called  free  countries  ;  there- 
fore one  more  or  less  won't  make  much  difference. 
Come,  officer,  who's  going  to  take  me  to  Welland  ? 
or  shall  I  have  to  go  by  myself?  I'm  a  Fenian  from 
'way  back,  and  came  here  especially  to  overturn  the 
throne  and  take  it  home  with  me.  For  Heaven's 
sake,  know  your  own  mind  one  way  or  other,  and 
let  us  end  this  conference." 

The  officer  was  wroth.  He  speedily  gave  the 
order  to  Stoliker  to  handcuff  the  prisoner  to  himself, 
and  deliver  him  to  the  jailer  at  Welland. 

"  But  I  want  assistance,"  objected  Stoliker.  "  The 
prisoner  is  a  bigger  man  than  I  am."  The  volun- 
teers laughed  as  Stoliker  mentioned  this  self-evident 
fact. 

"  If  anyone  likes  to  go  with  you,  he  can  go.  I 
shall  give  no  orders." 

No  one  volunteered  to  accompany  the  constable. 

"Take  this  revolver  with  you,"  continued  the 
officer,  "  and  if  he  attempts  to  escape,  shoot  him. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         231 

Besides,  you  know  the  way  to  Welland,  so  I  can't 
send  anybody  in  your  place,  even  if  I  wanted  to." 

"  Howard  knows  the  way,"  persisted  Stoliker. 
That  young  man  spoke  up  with  great  indignation  : 
"  Yes,  but  Howard  isn't  constable,  and  Stoliker  is. 
I'm  not  going." 

Renmark  went  up  to  his  friend. 

"  Who's  acting  foolishly  now,  Yates  ? "  he  said. 
"  Why  don't  you  insist  on  seeing  the  colonel  ?  The 
chances  are  ten  to  one  that  you  would  be  allowed 
off." 

"  Don't  make  any  mistake.  The  colonel  will  very 
likely  be  some  fussy  individual  who  magnifies  his 
own  importance,  and  who  will  send  a  squad  of 
volunteers  to  escort  me,  and  I  want  to  avoid  that. 
These  officers  always  stick  by  each  other ;  they're 
bound  to.  I  want  to  go  alone  with  Stoliker.  I 
have  a  score  to  settle  with  him." 

"  Now,  don't  do  anything  rash.  You've  done 
nothing  so  far ;  but  if  you  assault  an  officer  of  the 
law,  that  will  be  a  different  matter." 

"  Satan  reproving  sin.  Who  prevented  you  from 
hitting  Stoliker  a  short  time  since  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  was  wrong  then.     You  are  wrong  now." 

"  See  here,  Renny,"  whispered  Yates,  "  you  get 
back  to  the  tent,  and  see  that  everything's  all  right. 
I'll  be  with  you  in  an  hour  or  so.  Don't  look  so 
frightened.  I  won't  hurt  Stoliker.  But  I  want  to 
see  this  fight,  and  I  won't  get  there  if  the  colonel 
sends  an  escort.  I'm  going  to  use  Stoliker  as  a 
shield  when  the  bullets  begin  flying." 


232         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

The  bugles  sounded  for  the  troops  to  fall  in,  and 
Stoliker  very  reluctantly  attached  one  clasp  of  the 
handcuff  around  his  own  left  wrist,  while  he  snapped 
the  other  on  the  right  wrist  of  Yates,  who  embar- 
rassed him  with  kindly  assistance.  The  two  man- 
acled  men  disappeared  down  the  road,  while  the 
volunteers  rapidly  fell  in  to  continue  their  morning's 
march. 

Young  Howard  beckoned  to  the  professor  from 
his  place  in  the  ranks.  "  I  say,  professor,  how  did 
you  happen  to  be  down  this  way  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  camping  out  here  for  a  week  or 
more  with  Yates,  who  is  an  old  schoolfellow  of 
mine." 

"  What  a  shame  to  have  him  led  off  in  that  way  ! 
But  he  seemed  rather  to  like  the  idea.  Jolly  fellow, 
I  should  say.  How  I  wish  I  had  known  you  were 
in  this  neighbourhood.  My  folks  live  near  here. 
They  would  only  have  been  too  glad  to  be  of  assist- 
ance to  you." 

"  They  have  been  of  assistance  to  me,  and  ex- 
ceedingly kind  as  well." 

"  What  ?  You  know  them  ?  All  of  them  ?  Have 
you  met  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  professor  slowly,  but  his  glance 
fell  as  it  encountered  the  eager  eyes  of  the  youth. 
It  was  evident  that  Margaret  was  the  brother's 
favourite. 

"  Fall  back,  there !  "  cried  the  officer  to  Renmark. 

"  May  I  march  along  with  them  ?  or  can  you  give 
me  a  gun,  and  let  me  take  part  ?  " 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         233 

"  No,"  said  the  officer  with  some  hauteur ;  "  this 
is  no  place  for  civilians."  Again  the  professor  smiled 
as  he  reflected  that  the  whole  company,  as  far  as 
martial  experience  went,  were  merely  civilians 
dressed  in  uniform ;  but  he  became  grave  again 
when  he  remembered  Yates'  ominous  prediction  re- 
garding them. 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Renmark,"  cried  young  Howard,  as 
the  company  moved  off,  "  if  you  see  any  of  them, 
don't  tell  them  I'm  here — especially  Margaret.  It 
might  make  them  uneasy.  I'll  get  leave  when  this 
is  over,  and  drop  in  on  them." 

The  boy  spoke  with  the  hopeful  confidence  of 
youth,  and  had  evidently  no  premonition  of  how  his 
appointment  would  be  kept.  Renmark  left  the 
road,  and  struck  across  country  in  the  direction  of 
the  tent. 

Meanwhile,  two  men  were  tramping  steadily  along 
the  dusty  road  toward  Welland :  the  captor  moody 
and  silent,  the  prisoner  talkative  and  entertaining' — 
indeed,  Yates'  conversation  often  went  beyond  en- 
tertainment, and  became,  at  times,  instructive.  He 
discussed  the  affairs  of  both  countries,  showed  a  way 
out  of  all  political  difficulties,  gave  reasons  for  the 
practical  use  of  common  sense  in  every  emergency, 
passed  opinions  on  the  methods  of  agriculture 
adopted  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  told  stories 
of  the  war,  gave  instances  of  men  in  captivity  mur- 
dering those  who  were  in  charge  of  them,  deduced 
from  these  anecdotes  the  foolishness  of  resisting 
lawful  authority  lawfully  exercised,  and,  in  general, 


234         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

showed  that  he  was  a  man  who  respected  power  and 
the  exercise  thereof.  Suddenly  branching  to  more 
practical  matters,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Say,  Stoliker,  how  many  taverns  are  there  be- 
tween here  and  Welland  ?  " 

Stoliker  had  never  counted  them. 

"  Well,  that's  encouraging,  anyhow.  If  there  are 
so  many  that  it  requires  an  effort  of  the  memory  to 
enumerate  them,  we  will  likely  have  something  to 
drink  before  long." 

"  I  never  drink  while  on  duty,"  said  Stoliker 
curtly. 

"  Oh,  well,  don't  apologize  for  it.  Every  man  has 
his  failings.  I'll  be  only  too  happy  to  give  you 
some  instruction.  I  have  acquired  the  useful  prac- 
tice of  being  able  to  drink  both  on  and  off  duty. 
Anything  can  be  done,  Stoliker,  if  you  give  your 
mind  to  it.  I  don't  believe  in  the  word  '  can't/ 
either  with  or  without  the  mark  of  elision." 

Stoliker  did  not  answer,  and  Yates  yawned  wearily. 

"I  wish  you  would  hire  a  rig,  constable.  I'm 
tired  of  walking.  I've  been  on  my  feet  ever  since 
three  this  morning." 

"  I  have  no  authority  to  hire  a  buggy." 

"  But  what  do  you  do  when  a  prisoner  refuses  to 
move?  " 

"  I  make  him  move,"  said  Stoliker  shortly. 

"  Ah,  I  see.  That's  a  good  plan,  and  saves  bills 
at  the  livery  stable." 

They  came  to  a  tempting  bank  by  the  roadside, 
when  Yates  cried : 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          235 

"  Let's  sit  down  and  have  a  rest.  I'm  done  out. 
The  sun  is  hot,  and  the  road  dusty.  You  can  let 
me  have  half  an  hour :  the  day's  young  yet." 

"  I'll  let  you  have  fifteen  minutes." 

They  sat  down  together.  "  I  wish  a  team  would 
come  along,"  said  Yates  with  a  sigh. 

"  No  chance  of  a  team,  with  most  of  the  horses  in 
the  neighbourhood  stolen,  and  the  troops  on  the 
roads." 

"  That's  so,"  assented  Yates  sleepily. 

He  was  evidently  tired  out,  for  his  chin  dropped 
on  his  breast,  and  his  eyes  closed.  His  breathing 
came  soft  and  regular,  and  his  body  leaned  toward 
the  constable,  who  sat  bolt  upright.  Yates's  left  arm 
fell  across  the  knees  of  Stoliker,  and  he  leaned  more 
and  more  heavily  against  him.  The  constable  did 
not  know  whether  he  was  shamming  or  not,  but  he 
took  no  risks.  He  kept  his  grasp  firm  on  the  butt 
of  the  revolver.  Yet,  he  reflected,  Yates  could 
surely  not  meditate  an  attempt  on  his  weapon,  for 
he  had,  a  few  minutes  before,  told  him  a  story  about 
a  prisoner  who  escaped  in  exactly  that  way.  Stol- 
iker was  suspicious  of  the  good  intentions  of  the  man 
he  had  in  charge  ;  he  was  altogether  too  polite  and 
good-natured ;  and,  besides,  the  constable  dumbly 
felt  that  the  prisoner  was  a  much  cleverer  man 
than  he. 

"  Here,  sit  up,"  he  said  gruffly.  "  I'm  not  paid 
to  carry  you,  you  know." 

"What's  that?  What's  that?  What's  that?" 
cried  Yates  rapidly,  blinking  his  eyes  and  straight- 


236        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ening  up.  "  Oh,  it's  only  you,  Stoliker.  I  thought 
it  was  my  friend  Renmark.  Have  I  been  asleep  ?  " 

"  Either  that  or  pretending — I  don't  know  which, 
and  I  don't  care." 

"  Oh  !  I  must  have  been  pretending,"  answered 
Yates  drowsily  ;  "  I  can't  have  dropped  asleep.  How 
long  have  we  been  here  ?  " 

"About  five  minutes." 

"  All  right."  And  Yates'  head  began  to  droop  again. 

This  time  the  constable  felt  no  doubt  about  it. 
No  man  could  imitate  sleep  so  well.  Several  times 
Yates  nearly  fell  forward,  and  each  time  saved  him- 
self with  the  usual  luck  of  a  sleeper  or  a  drunkard. 
Nevertheless,  Stoliker  never  took  his  hand  from  his 
revolver.  Suddenly,  with  a  greater  lurch  than 
usual,  Yates  pitched  head  first  down  the  bank,  carry- 
ing the  constable  with  him.  The  steel  band  of  the 
handcuff  nipped  the  wrist  of  Stoliker,  who,  with  an 
oath  and  a  cry  of  pain,  instinctively  grasped  the 
links  between  with  his  right  hand,  to  save  his  wrist. 
Like  a  cat,  Yates  was  upon  him,  showing  marvellous 
agility  for  a  man  who  had  just  tumbled  in  a  heap. 
The  next  instant  he  held  aloft  the  revolver,  crying, 
triumphantly  : 

"  How's  that,  umpire?     Out,  I  expect." 

The  constable,  with  set  teeth,  still  rubbed  his 
wounded  wrist,  realising  the  helplessness  of  a 
struggle. 

"  Now,  Stoliker,"  said  Yates,  pointing  the  pistol 
at  him,  "  what  have  you  to  say  before  I  fire?  " 

"  Nothing,"  answered  the  constable,  "  except  that 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         237 

you  will  be  hanged  at  Welland,  instead  of  staying 
a  few  days  in  jail." 

Yates  laughed.  "  That's  not  bad,  Stoliker ;  and 
I  really  believe  there's  some  grit  in  you,  if  you  are 
a  man-catcher.  Still,  you  were  not  in  very  much 
danger,  as  perhaps  you  knew.  Now,  if  you  should 
want  this  pistol  again,  just  watch  where  it  alights." 
And  Yates,  taking  the  weapon  by  the  muzzle,  tossed 
it  as  far  as  he  could  into  the  field. 

Stoliker  watched  its  flight  intently,  then,  putting 
his  hand  into  his  pocket,  he  took  out  some  small 
object  and  flung  it  as  nearly  as  possible  to  the  spot 
where  the  revolver  fell. 

"  Is  that  how  you  mark  the  place?"  asked  Yates; 
"  or  is  it  some  spell  that  will  enable  you  to  find  the 
pistol?" 

"  Neither,"  answered  the  constable  quietly.  "  It 
is  the  key  of  the  handcuffs.  The  duplicate  is  at 
Welland." 

Yates  whistled  a  prolonged  note,  and  looked  with 
admiration  at  the  little  man.  He  saw  the  hopeless- 
ness of  the  situation.  If  he  attempted  to  search 
for  the  key  in  the  long  grass,  the  chances  were  ten 
to  one  that  Stoliker  would  stumble  on  the  pistol  be- 
fore Yates  found  the  key,  in  which  case  the  reporter 
would  be  once  more  at  the  mercy  of  the  law. 

"  Stoliker,  you're  evidently  fonder  of  my  com- 
pany than  I  am  of  yours.  That  wasn't  a  bad 
strategic  move  on  your  part,  but  it  may  cause  you 
some  personal  inconvenience  before  I  get  these 
handcuffs  filed  off.  I'm  not  going  to  Welland  this 


238         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

trip,  as  you  may  be  disappointed  to  learn.  I  have 
gone  with  you  as  far  as  I  intend  to.  You  will  now 
come  with  me." 

"  I  shall  not  move,"  replied  the  constable  firmly. 

"  Very  well,  stay  there,"  said  Yates,  twisting  his 
hand  around  so  as  to  grasp  the  chain  that  joined  the 
cuffs.  Getting  a  firm  grip,  he  walked  up  the  road, 
down  which  they  had  tramped  a  few  minutes  before. 
Stoliker  set  his  teeth  and  tried  to  hold  his  ground, 
but  was  forced  to  follow.  Nothing  was  said  by 
either  until  several  hundred  yards  were  thus  trav- 
ersed. Then  Yates  stopped. 

"  Having  now  demonstrated  to  you  the  fact  that 
you  must  accompany  me,  I  hope  you  will  show 
yourself  a  sensible  man,  Stoliker,  and  come  with 
me  quietly.  It  will  be  less  exhausting  for  both  of 
us,  and  all  the  same  in  the  end.  You  can  do  noth- 
ing until  you  get  help.  I  am  going  to  see  the  fight, 
which  I  feel  sure  will  be  a  brief  one,  so  I  don't 
want  to  lose  any  more  time  in  getting  back.  In 
order  to  avoid  meeting  people,  and  having  me  ex- 
plain to  them  that  you  are  my  prisoner,  I  propose 
we  go  through  the  fields." 

One  difference  between  a  fool  and  a  wise  man  is 
that  the  wise  man  always  accepts  the  inevitable. 
The  constable  was  wise.  The  two  crossed  the  rail 
fence  into  the  fields,  and  walked  along  peaceably 
together — Stoliker  silent,  as  usual,  with  the  grim 
confidence  of  a  man  who  is  certain  of  ultimate  suc- 
cess, who  has  the  nation  behind  him,  with  all  its 
machinery  working  in  his  favour;  Yates  talkative, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         239 

argumentative,  and  instructive  by  turns,  occasionally 
breaking  forth  into  song  when  the  unresponsiveness 
of  the  other  rendered  conversation  difficult. 

"  Stoliker,  how  supremely  lovely  and  quiet  and 
restful  are  the  silent,  scented,  spreading  fields ! 
How  soothing  to  a  spirit  tired  of  the  city's  din  is 
this  solitude,  broken  only  by  the  singing  of  the 
birds  and  the  drowsy  droning  of  the  bee,  errone- 
ously termed  '  bumble ! '  The  green  fields,  the 
shady  trees,  the  sweet  freshness  of  the  summer  air, 
untainted  by  city  smoke,  and  over  all  the  eternal 
serenity  of  the  blue  unclouded  sky — how  can  human 
spite  and  human  passion  exist  in  such  a  paradise  ? 
Does  it  all  not  make  you  feel  as  if  you  were  an  in- 
nocent  child  again,  with  motives  pure  and  conscience 
white  ?  " 

If  Stoliker  felt  like  an  innocent  child,  he  did  not 
look  it.  With  clouded  brow  he  eagerly  scanned  the 
empty  fields,  hoping  for  help.  But,  although  the 
constable  made  no  reply,  there  was  an  answer  that 
electrified  Yates,  and  put  all  thought  of  the  beauty 
of  the  country  out  of  his  mind.  The  dull  report  of  a 
musket,  far  in  front  of  them,  suddenly  broke  the 
silence,  followed  by  several  scattering  shots,  and  then 
the  roar  of  a  volley.  This  was  sharply  answered 
by  the  ring  of  rifles  to  the  right.  With  an  oath, 
Yates  broke  into  a  run. 

"  They're  at  it !  "  he  cried,  "  and  all  on  account  of 
your  confounded  obstinacy  I  shall  miss  the  whole 
show.  The  Fenians  have  opened  fire,  and  the 
Canadians  have  not  been  long  in  replying. 


240         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

The  din  of  the  firing  now  became  incessant. 
The  veteran  in  Yates  was  aroused.  He  was  like  an 
old  war-horse  who  again  sniffs  the  intoxicating  smell 
of  battle  smoke.  The  lunacy  of  gunpowder  shone  in 
his  gleaming  eye. 

"  Come  on,  you  loitering  idiot !  "  he  cried  to  the 
constable,  who  had  difficulty  in  keeping  pace  with 
him;  "come  on,  or,  by  the  gods!  I'll  break  your 
wrist  across  a  fence  rail  and  tear  this  brutal  iron 
from  it." 

The  savage  face  of  the  prisoner  was  transformed 
with  the  passion  of  war,  and,  for  the  first  time  that 
day,  Stoliker  quailed  before  the  insane  glare  of  his 
eyes.  But  if  he  was  afraid,  he  did  not  show  his  fear 
to  Yates. 

"  Come  on,  you  !  "  he  shouted,  springing  ahead, 
and  giving  a  twist  to  the  handcuffs  well  known  to 
those  who  have  to  deal  with  refractory  criminals. 
"  I  am  as  eager  to  see  the  fight  as  you  are." 

The  sharp  pain  brought  Yates  to  his  senses  again. 
He  laughed,  and  said :  "  That's  the  ticket.  I'm 
with  you.  Perhaps  you  would  not  be  in  such  a 
hurry  if  you  knew  that  I  am  going  into  the  thick  of 
the  fight,  and  intend  to  use  you  as  a  shield  from  the 
bullets." 

"  That's  all  right,"  answered  the  little  constable, 
panting.  "  Two  sides  are  firing.  I'll  shield  you  on 
one  side,  and  you'll  have  to  shield  me  on  the  other." 

Again  Yates  laughed,  and  then  they  ran  silently 
together.  Avoiding  the  houses,  they  came  out  at 
the  Ridge  Road.  The  smoke  rolled  up  above  the 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         241 

trees,  showing  where  the  battle  was  going  forward 
some  distance  beyond.  Yates  made  the  constable 
cross  the  fence  and  the  road,  and  take  to  the  fields 
again,  bringing  him  around  behind  Bartlett's  house 
and  barn.  No  one  was  visible  near  the  house  except 
Kitty  Bartlett,  who  stood  in  the  back-yard  watch- 
ing, with  pale  and  anxious  face,  the  rolling  smoke, 
now  and  then  covering  her  ears  with  her  hands 
as  the  sound  of  an  extra  loud  volley  assailed 
them.  Stoliker  lifted  up  his  voice  and  shouted  for 
help. 

"  If  you  do  that  again,"  cried  Yates,  clutching  him 
by  the  throat,  "  I'll  choke  you  !  " 

But  he  did  not  need  to  do  it  again.  The  girl  heard 
the  cry,  turned  with  a  frightened  look,  and  was 
about  to  fly  into  the  house  when  she  recognised  the 
two.  Then  she  came  toward  them.  Yates  took  his 
hand  away  from  the  constable's  throat. 

"Where  is  your  father  or  your  brother?"  de- 
manded the  constable. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Where  is  your  mother  ?  " 

"  She  is  over  with  Mrs.  Howard,  who  is  ill." 

"  Are  you  all  alone?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  I  command  you,  in  the  name  of  the  Queen, 
to  give  no  assistance  to  this  prisoner,  but  to  do  as  I 
tell  you." 

"  And  I  command  you,  in  the  name  of  the  Pres- 
ident," cried  Yates,  "  to  keep  your  mouth  shut,  and 

not  to  address  a  lady  like  that.     Kitty,"  he  con- 
16 


242        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

tinued  in  a  milder  tone,  "  could  you  tell  me  where 
to  get  a  file,  so  that  I  may  cut  these  wrist  ornaments  ? 
Don't  you  get  it.  You  are  to  do  nothing.  Just  in- 
dicate where  the  file  is.  The  law  mustn't  have  any 
hold  on  you,  as  it  seems  to  have  on  me." 

"  Why  don't  you  make  him  unlock  them  ?  "  asked 
Kitty. 

"  Because  the  villain  threw  away  the  key  in  the 
fields." 

"He  couldn't  have  done  that." 

The  constable  caught  his  breath. 

"  But  he  did.     I  saw  him." 

"  And  I  saw  him  unlock  them  at  breakfast.  The 
key  was  on  the  end  of  his  watch  chain.  He  hasn't 
thrown  that  away." 

She  made  a  move  to  take  out  his  watch  chain  but 
Yates  stopped  her. 

"  Don't  touch  him.  I'm  playing  a  lone  hand  here." 
He  jerked  out  the  chain,  and  the  real  key  dangled 
from  it. 

.  "  Well,  Stoliker,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  know  which  to 
admire  most — your  cleverness  and  pluck,  my  stu- 
pidity, or  Miss  Bartlett's  acuteness  of  observation. 
Can  we  get  into  the  barn,  Kitty  ?  " 

"  Yes;  but  you  mustn't  hurt  him." 

"  No  fear.  I  think  too  much  of  him.  Don't  you 
come  in.  I'll  be  out  in  a  moment,  like  the  medium 
from  a  spiritualistic  dark  cabinet." 

Entering  the  barn,  Yates  forced  the  constable  up 
against  the  square  oaken  post  which  was  part  of  the 
framework  of  the  building,  and  which  formed  one 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         243 

side  of  the  perpendicular  ladder  that  led  to  the  top 
of  the  hay-mow. 

"  Now,  Stoliker,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  you  realise, 
of  course,  that  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you ;  yet  you 
also  realise  that  I  must  hurt  you  if  you  attempt  to 
play  tricks.  I  can't  take  any  risks,  please  remember 
that ;  and  recollect  that,  by  the  time  you  are  free 
again,  I  shall  be  in  the  State  of  New  York.  So 
don't  compel  me  to  smash  your  head  against  this 
post."  He,  with  some  trouble,  unlocked  the  clasp 
on  his  own  wrist ;  then,  drawing  Stoliker's  right  hand 
around  the  post,  he  snapped  the  same  clasp  on  the 
constable's  hitherto  free  wrist.  The  unfortunate 
man,  with  his  cheek  against  the  oak,  was  in  the 
comical  position  of  lovingly  embracing  the  post. 

"  I'll  get  you  a  chair  from  the  kitchen,  so  that  you 
will  be  more  comfortable — unless,  like  Samson,  you 
can  pull  down  the  supports.  Then  I  must  bid  you 
good-bye." 

Yates  went  out  to  the  girl,  who  was  waiting  for 
him. 

"  I  want  to  borrow  a  kitchen  chair,  Kitty,"  he 
said,  "  so  that  poor  Stoliker  will  get  a  rest." 

They  walked  toward  the  house.  Yates  noticed 
that  the  firing  had  ceased,  except  a  desultory  shot 
here  and  there  across  the  country. 

"  I  shall  have  to  retreat  over  the  border  as  quickly 
as  I  can,"  he  continued.  "  This  country  is  getting 
too  hot  for  me." 

"You  are  much  safer  here,"  said  the  girl,  with 
downcast  eyes.  "  A  man  has  brought  the  news  that 


244        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

the  United  States  gunboats  are  sailing  up  and  down 
the  river,  making  prisoners  of  all  who  attempt  to 
cross  from  this  side." 

"  You  don't  say  !  Well,  I  might  have  known  that. 
Then  what  am  I  to  do  with  Stoliker  ?  I  can't  keep 
him  tied  up  here.  Yet  the  moment  he  gets  loose 
I'm  done  for." 

"  Perhaps  mother  could  persuade  him  not  to  do 
anything  more.  Shall  I  go  for  her?" 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  be  of  any  use.  Stoliker' s  a 
stubborn  animal.  He  has  suffered  too  much  at  my 
hands  to  be  in  a  forgiving  mood.  We'll  bring  him 
a  chair,  anyhow,  and  see  the  effect  of  kindness  on 
him." 

When  the  chair  was  placed  at  Stoliker's  disposal, 
he  sat  down  upon  it,  still  hugging  the  post  with  an 
enforced  fervency  that,  in  spite  of  the  solemnity  of 
the  occasion,  nearly  made  Kitty  laugh,  and  lit  up 
her  eyes  with  the  mischievousness  that  had  always 
delighted  Yates. 

"  How  long  am  I  to  be  kept  here  ?  "  asked  the 
constable. 

"  Oh,  not  long,"  answered  Yates  cheerily ;  "  not 
a  moment  longer  than  is  necessary.  I'll  telegraph 
when  I'm  safe  in  New  York  State ;  so  you  won't  be 
here  more  than  a  day  or  two." 

This  assurance  did  not  appear  to  bring  much 
comfort  to  Stoliker. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  ;  "  I  guess  I  know  as  well 
as  the  next  man  when  I'm  beaten.  I  have  been 
thinking  all  this  over.  I  am  under  the  sheriff's 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          245 

orders,  and  not  under  the  orders  of  that  officer.  I 
don't  believe  you've  done  anything,  anyhow,  or  you 
wouldn't  have  acted  quite  the  way  you  did.  If  the 
sheriff  had  sent  me,  it  would  have  been  different. 
As  it  is,  if  you  unlock  those  cuffs,  I'll  give  you  my 
word  I'll  do  nothing  more  unless  I'm  ordered  to. 
Like  as  not  they've  forgotten  all  about  you  by  this 
time ;  and  there's  nothing  on  record,  anyhow." 
"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  Will  you  act  square?" 
"  Certainly  I'll  act  square.  I  don't  suppose  you 
doubt  that.  I  didn't  ask  any  favours  before,  and  I 
did  what  I  could  to  hold  you." 

"  Enough  said,"  cried  Yates.     "  I'll  risk  it." 
Stoliker  stretched  his  arms  wearily  above  his  head 
when  he  was  released. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  now  that  Kitty  was  gone, 
"  if  there  is  anything  to  eat  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Shake ! "  cried  Yates,  holding  out  his  hand  to 
him.  "  Another  great  and  mutual  sentiment  unites 
us,  Stoliker.  Let  us  go  and  see." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE  man  who  wanted  to  see  the  fight  did  not 
see  it,  and  the  man  who  did  not  want  to  see  it  saw 
it.  Yates  arrived  on  the  field  of  conflict  when  all 
was  over;  Renmark  found  the  battle  raging  around 
him  before  he  realised  that  things  had  reached  a 
crisis. 

When  Yates  reached  the  tent,  he  found  it  empty 
and  torn  by  bullets.  The  fortunes  of  war  had 
smashed  the  jar,  and  the  fragments  were  strewn  be- 
fore the  entrance,  probably  by  some  disappointed 
man  who  had  tried  to  sample  the  contents  and  had 
found  nothing. 

"  Hang  it  all ! "  said  Yates  to  himself,  "  I  wonder 
what  the  five  assistants  that  the  Argus  sent  me  have 
done  with  themselves?  If  they  are  with  the  Fe- 
nians, beating  a  retreat,  or,  worse,  if  they  are  cap- 
tured by  the  Canadians,  they  won't  be  able  to  get 
an  account  of  this  scrimmage  through  to  the  paper. 
Now,  this  is  evidently  the  biggest  item  of  the  year 
— it's  international,  by  George !  It  may  involve 
England  and  the  United  States  in  a  war,  if  both 
sides  are  not  extra  mild  and  cautious.  I  can't  run 
the  chance  of  the  paper  being  left  in  the  lurch, 
me  think  a  minute.  Is  it  my  tip  to  follow  the 
346 


247 

Canadians  or  the  Fenians  ?  I  wonder  which  is  run- 
ning the  faster?  My  men  are  evidently  with  the 
Fenians,  if  they  were  on  the  ground  at  all.  If  I  go 
after  the  Irish  Republic,  I  shall  ru-n  the  risk  of  dupli- 
cating things ;  but  if  I  follow  the  Canadians,  they 
may  put  me  under  arrest.  Then  we  have  more  Fe- 
nian sympathisers  among  our  readers  than  Cana- 
dians, so  the  account  from  the  invasion  side  of  the 
fence  will  be  the  more  popular.  Yet  a  Canadian 
version  would  be  a  good  thing,  if  I  were  sure  the 
rest  of  the  boys  got  in  their  work,  and  the  chances 
are  that  the  other  papers  won't  have  any  reporters 
among  the  Canucks.  Heavens!  What  is  a  man 
to  do  ?  I'll  toss  up  for  it.  Heads,  the  Fenians." 

He  spun  the  coin  in  the  air,  aud  caught  it. 

"  Heads  it  is !  The  Fenians  are  my  victims.  I'm 
camping  on  their  trail,  anyhow.  Beside,  it's  safer 
than  following  the  Canadians,  even  though  Stoliker 
has  got  my  pass." 

Tired  as  he  was,  he  stepped  briskly  through  the 
forest.  The  scent  of  a  big  item  was  in  his  nostrils, 
and  it  stimulated  him  like  champagne.  What  was 
temporary  loss  of  sleep  compared  to  the  joy  of  de- 
feating the  opposition  press  ? 

A  blind  man  might  have  followed  the  trail  of  the 
retreating  army.  They  had  thrown  away,  as  they 
passed  through  the  woods,  every  article  that  im- 
peded their  progress.  Once  he  came  on  a  man  lying 
with  his  face  in  the  dead  leaves.  He  turned  him  over. 

"  His  troubles  are  past,  poor  devil,"  said  Yates, 
as  he  pushed  on. 


248          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

44  Halt !  Throw  up  your  hands  !  "  came  a  cry 
from  in  front  of  him. 

Yates  saw  no  one,  but  he  promptly  threw  up  his 
hands,  being  an  adaptable  man. 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?  "  he  shouted.  "  I'm  re- 
treating, too." 

"  Then  retreat  five  steps  farther.  I'll  count  the 
steps.  One." 

Yates  strode  one  step  forward,  and  then  saw  that 
a  man  behind  a  tree  was  covering  him  with  a  gun. 
The  next  step  revealed  a  second  captor,  with  a  huge 
upraised  hammer,  like  a  Hercules  with  his  club. 
Both  men  had  blackened  faces,  and  resembled  thor- 
oughly disreputable  fiends  of  the  forest.  Seated  on 
the  ground,  in  a  semicircle,  were  half  a  dozen  de- 
jected prisoners.  The  man  with  the  gun  swore  fear- 
fully, but  his  comrade  with  the  hammer  was  silent. 

"  Come,"  said  the  marksman,  "  you  blank  scoun- 
drel, and  take  a  seat  with  your  fellow-scoundrels. 
If  you  attempt  to  run,  blank  blank  you,  I'll  fill  you 
full  of  buckshot !  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  run,  Sandy,"  cried  Yates, 
recognising  him.  "  Why  should  I  ?  I've  always  en- 
joyed your  company,  and  Macdonald's.  How  are 
you,  Mac  ?  Is  this  a  little  private  raid  of  your 
own  ?  For  which  side  are  you  fighting  ?  And  I 
say,  Sandy,  what's  the  weight  of  that  old-fashioned 
bar  of  iron  you  have  in  your  hands  ?  I'd  like  to 
decide  a  bet.  Let  me  heft  it,  as  you  said  in  the 
shop." 

"  Oh,  it's  you,   is  it  ? "  said  Sandy  in   a  disap- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS        249 

pointed  tone,  lowering  his  gun.  "  I  thought  we 
had  raked  in  another  of  them.  The  old  man  and  I 
want  to  make  it  an  even  dozen." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  you'll  capture  any  more.  I 
saw  nobody  as  I  came  through  the  woods.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  this  crowd  ?  " 

"  Brain  'em,"  said  Macdonald  laconically,  speak- 
ing for  the  first  time.  Then  he  added  reluctantly  : 
"  If  any  of  'em  tries  to  escape." 

The  prisoners  were  all  evidently  too  tired  and 
despondent  to  make  any  attempt  at  regaining  their 
liberty.  Sandy  winked  over  Macdonald's  shoulder 
at  Yates,  and  by  a  slight  side  movement  of  his  head 
he  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  would  like  to  have 
some  private  conversation  with  the  newspaper  man. 

"  I'm  not    your  prisoner,  am  I  ?  "    asked    Yates. 

"  No,"  said  Macdonald.  "  You  may  go  if  you 
like,  but  not  in  the  direction  the  Fenians  have  gone." 

"  I  guess  I  won't  need  to  go  any  farther,  if  you 
will  give  me  permission  to  interview  your  prisoners. 
I  merely  want  to  get  some  points  about  the  fight." 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  the  blacksmith,  "  as  long 
as  you  don't  try  to  help  them.  If  you  do,  I  warn 
you  there  will  be  trouble." 

Yates  followed  Sandy  into  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
out  of  hearing  of  the  others,  leaving  Macdonald  and 
his  sledge-hammer  on  guard. 

When  at  a  safe  distance,  Sandy  stopped  and  rested 
his  arms  on  his  gun,  in  a  pathfinder  attitude. 

"  Say,"  he  began  anxiously,  "  you  haven't  got 
some  powder  and  shot  on  you  by  any  chance  ?  " 


250         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  Not  an  ounce.     Haven't  you  any  ammunition  ?  w 

"  No,  and  haven't  had  all  through  the  fight.  You 
see,  we  left  the  shop  in  such  a  hurry  we  never 
thought  about  powder  and  ball.  As  soon  as  a  man 
on  horseback  came  by  shouting  that  there  was  a  fight 
on,  the  old  man  he  grabbed  his  sledge,  and  I  took 
this  gun  that  had  been  left  at  the  shop  for  repairs, 
and  off  we  started.  I'm  not  sure  that  it  would  shoot 
if  I  had  ammunition,  but  I'd  like  to  try.  I've  scared 
some  of  them  Fee-neens  nigh  to  death  with  it,  but 
I  was  always  afraid  one  of  them  would  pull  a  real 
gun  on  me,  and  then  I  don't  know  just  what  I'd  'a' 
done." 

Sandy  sighed,  and  added,  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  saw  his  mistake,  but  was  somewhat  loath  to  ac- 
knowledge it :  "  Next  battle  there  is  you  won't  find 
me  in  it  with  a  lame  gun  and  no  powder.  I'd  sooner 
have  the  old  man's  sledge.  It  don't  miss  fire."  His 
eye  brightened  as  he  thought  of  Macdonald.  "  Say," 
he  continued,  with  a  jerk  of  his  head  back  over  his 
shoulder,  "  the  boss  is  on  the  warpath  in  great  style, 
ain't  he?" 

"  He  is,"  said  Yates,  "  but,  for  that  matter,  so  are 
you.  You  can  swear  nearly  as  well  as  Macdonald 
himself.  When  did  you  take  to  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  you  see,"  said  Sandy  apologetically, 
"  it  don't  come  as  natural  to  me  as  chewing,  but, 
then,  somebody's  got  to  swear.  The  old  man's  con- 
verted, you  know." 

"  Ah,  hasn't  he  backslid  yet?  " 

"  No,  he  hasn't.     I  was  afraid  this  scrimmage  was 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         251 

going  to  do  for  him,  but  it  didn't ;  and  now  I  think 
that  if  somebody  near  by  does  a  little  cussing, — not 
that  anyone  can  cuss  like  the  boss, —he'll  pull 
through.  I  think  he'll  stick  this  time.  You'd  ought 
to  have  seen  him  wading  into  them  d — d  Fee-neens, 
swinging  his  sledge,  and  singing  '  Onward,  Christian 
soldiers.'  Then,  with  me  to  chip  in  a  cuss  word  now 
and  again  when  things  got  hot,  he  pulled  through 
the  day  without  ripping  an  oath.  I  tell  you,  it  was 
a  sight.  He  bowled  'em  over  like  nine-pins.  You 
ought  to  'a'  been  there." 

"  Yes,"  said  Yates  regretfully.  "  I  missed  it,  all 
on  account  of  that  accursed  Stoliker.  Well,  there's 
no  use  crying  over  spilled  milk,  but  I'll  tell  you  one 
thing,  Sandy:  although  I  have  no  ammunition,  I'll 
let  you  know  what  I  have  got.  I  have,  in  my 
pocket,  one  of  the  best  plugs  of  tobacco  that  you 
ever  put  your  teeth  into." 

Sandy's  eyes  glittered.  "  Bless  you  !  "  was  all  he 
could  say,  as  he  bit  off  a  corner  of  the  offered  plug. 

"  You  see,  Sandy,  there  are  compensations  in  this 
life,  after  all ;  I  thought  you  were  out." 

"  I  haven't  had  a  bite  all  day.  That's  the  trouble 
with  leaving  in  a  hurry." 

"  Well,  you  may  keep  that  plug  with  my  regards. 
Now,  I  want  to  get  back  and  interview  those  fellows. 
There's  no  time  to  be  lost." 

When  they  reached  the  group,  Macdonald  said : 

"  Here's  a  man  says  he  knows  you,  Mr.  Yates. 
He  claims  he  is  a  reporter,  and  that  you  will  vouch 
for  him." 


252         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Yates  strode  forward,  and  looked  anxiously  at  the 
prisoners,  hoping,  yet  fearing,  to  find  one  of  his  own 
men  there.  He  was  a  selfish  man,  and  wanted  the 
glory  of  the  day  to  be  all  his  own.  He  soon  recog- 
nised one  of  the  prisoners  as  Jimmy  Hawkins  of  the 
staff  of  a  rival  daily,  the  New  York  Blade.  This  was 
even  worse  than  he  had  anticipated. 

"Hello,  Jimmy!"  he  said,  "how  did  you  get 
here  ?  " 

"  I  was  raked  in  by  that  adjective  fool  with  the 
unwashed  face." 

"  Who's  a  fool  ? "  cried  Macdonald  in  wrath, 
grasping  his  hammer.  He  boggled  slightly  as  he 
came  to  the  "adjective,"  but  got  over  it  safely.  It 
was  evidently  a  close  call,  but  Sandy  sprang  to  the 
rescue,  and  cursed  Hawkins  until  even  the  prisoners 
turned  pale  at  the  torrent  of  profanity.  Macdonald 
looked  with  sad  approbation  at  his  pupil,  not  know- 
ing that  he  was  under  the  stimulus  of  newly-acquired 
tobacco,  wondering  how  he  had  attained  such  profi- 
ciency in  malediction  ;  for,  like  all  true  artists,  he  was 
quite  unconscious  of  his  own  merit  in  that  direction. 

"  Tell  this  hammer  wielder  that  I'm  no  anvil.  Tell 
him  that  I'm  a  newspaperman,  and  didn't  come  here 
to  fight.  He  says  that  if  you  guarantee  that  I'm  no 
Fenian  he'll  let  me  go." 

Yates  sat  down  on  a  fallen  log,  with  a  frown  on 
his  brow.  He  liked  to  do  a  favour  to  a  fellow-crea- 
ture when  the  act  did  not  inconvenience  himself,  but 
he  never  forgot  the  fact  that  business  was  business. 

"  I  can't  conscientiously  tell  him  that.  Jimmy," 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         253 

said  Yates  soothingly.  "  How  am  I  to  know  you 
are  not  a  Fenian?" 

"  Bosh  !  "  cried  Hawkins  angrily.  "  Conscien- 
tiously? A  lot  you  think  of  conscience  when  there 
is  an  item  to  be  had." 

"  We  none  of  us  live  up  to  our  better  nature, 
Jimmy,"  continued  Yates  feelingly.  "  We  can  but 
do  our  best,  which  is  not  much.  For  reasons  that 
you  might  fail  to  understand,  I  do  not  wish  to  run  the 
risk  of  telling  a  lie.  You  appreciate  my  hesitation, 
don't  you,  Mr.  Macdonald  ?  You  would  not  advise 
me  to  assert  a  thing  I  was  not  sure  of,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  blacksmith  earnestly. 

"  You  want  to  keep  me  here  because  you  are  afraid 
of  me,"  cried  the  indignant  Blade  man.  "  You  know 
very  well  I'm  not  a  Fenian." 

"  Excuse  me,  Jimmy,  but  I  know  nothing  of  the 
kind.  I  even  suspect  myself  of  Fenian  leanings. 
How,  then,  can  I  be  sure  of  you  ?'' 

"  What's  your  game  ? "  asked  Hawkins  more 
calmly,  for  he  realised  that  he  himseif  would  not  be 
slow  to  take  advantage  of  a  rival's  dilemma. 

"  My  game  is  to  get  a  neat  little  account  of  this 
historical  episode  sent  over  the  wires  to  the  Argus. 
You  see,  Jimmy,  this  is  my  busy  day.  When  the 
task  is  over,  I  will  devote  myself  to  your  service,  and 
will  save  you  from  being  hanged,  if  I  can  ;  although 
I  shall  do  so  without  prejudice,  as  the  lawyers  say, 
for  I  have  always  held  that  such  a  fate  will  be  the 
ultimate  end  of  all  the  Blade  staff." 

"  Look  here,  Yates ;  play  fair.     Don't  run  in  any 


254        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

conscientious  guff  on  a  prisoner.  You  see,  I  have 
known  you  these  many  years." 

"  Yes,  and  little  have  you  profited  by  a  noble  ex- 
ample.  It  is  your  knowledge  of  me  that  makes  me 
wonder  at  your  expecting  me  to  let  you  out  of  your 
hole  without  due  consideration." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  make  a  bargain  ?  " 

'*  Always — when  the  balance  of  trade  is  on  my 
side." 

"  Well,  if  you  give  me  a  fair  start,  I'll  give  you 
some  exclusive  information  that  you  can't  get  other* 
wise." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  I  wasn't  born  yesterday,  Dick." 

"  That  is  interesting  information,  Jimmy,  but  I 
knew  it  before.  Haven't  you  something  more  at- 
tractive to  offer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have.  I  have  the  whole  account  of  the 
expedition  and  the  fight  written  out,  all  ready  to 
send,  if  I  could  get  my  clutches  on  a  telegraph  wire. 
I'll  hand  it  over  to  you,  and  allow  you  to  read  it. 
if  you  will  get  me  out  of  this  hole,  as  you  call  it. 
I'll  give  you  permission  to  use  the  information  in 
any  way  you  choose,  if  you  will  extricate  me,  and  all 
I  ask  is  a  fair  start  in  the  race  for  a  telegraph  office." 
Yates  pondered  over  the  proposition  for  some  mo- 
ments. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Jimmy,"  he  finally  said. 
"  I'll  buy  that  account  from  you,  and  give  you  more 
money  than  the  Blade  will.  And  when  I  get  back 
to  New  York  I'll  place  you  on  the  staff  of  the 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS        255 

Argus  at  a  higher  salary  than  the  Blade  gives  you 
— taking  your  own  word  for  the  amount." 

"  What !  And  leave  my  paper  in  the  lurch  ?  Not 
likely." 

"  Your  paper  is  going  to  be  left  in  the  lurch,  any- 
how." 

"  Perhaps.  But  it  won't  be  sold  by  me.  I'll  burn 
my  copy  before  I  will  let  you  have  a  glimpse  of  it. 
That  don't  need  to  interfere  with  your  making  me 
an  offer  of  a  better  position  when  we  get  back  to 
New  York ;  but  while  my  paper  depends  on  me,  I 
won't  go  back  on  it." 

"  Just  as  you  please,  Jimmy.  Perhaps  I  would  do 
the  same  myself.  I  always  was  weak  where  the  in- 
terests of  the  Argus  were  concerned.  You  haven't 
any  blank  paper  you  could  lend  me,  Jimmy?" 

"  I  have,  but  I  won't  lend  it." 

Yates  took  out  his  pencil,  and  pulled  down  his 
cuff. 

"  Now,  Mac,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  all  you  saw  of  this 
fight." 

The  blacksmith  talked,  and  Yates  listened,  putting 
now  and  then  a  mark  on  his  cuff.  Sandy  spoke  oc- 
casionally, but  it  was  mostly  to  tell  of  sledge-ham- 
mer feats  or  to  corroborate  something  the  boss  said. 
One  after  another  Yates  interviewed  the  prisoners, 
and  gathered  together  all  the  materials  for  that  ex- 
cellent full-page  account  "by  an  eyewitness "  that 
afterward  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the  Argus. 
He  had  a  wonderful  memory,  and  simply  jotted 
down  figures  with  which  he  did  not  care  to  burden 


256        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

his  mind.  Hawkins  laughed  derisively  now  and 
then  at  the  facts  they  were  giving  Yates,  but  the 
Argus  man  said  nothing,  merely  setting  down  in 
shorthand  some  notes  of  the  information  Hawkins 
sneered  at,  which  Yates  considered  was  more  than 
likely  accurate  and  important.  When  he  had  got 
all  he  wanted,  he  rose. 

"  Shall  I  send  you  help,  Mac  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  the  smith  ;  "  I  think  I'll  take  these 
fellows  to  the  shop,  and  hold  them  there  till  called 
for.  You  can't  vouch  for  Hawkins,  then  Mr. 
Yates  ! " 

"  Good  Heavens,  no  !  I  look  on  him  as  the  most 
dangerous  of  the  lot.  These  half-educated  criminals, 
who  have  no  conscientious  scruples,  always  seem  to 
me  a  greater  menace  to  society  than  their  more 
ignorant  co-conspirators.  Well,  good-by,  Jimmy. 
I  think  you'll  enjoy  life  down  at  Mac's  shop.  It's 
the  best  place  I've  struck  since  I've  been  in  the  dis- 
trict. Give  my  love  to  all  the  boys,  when  they  come 
to  gaze  at  you.  I'll  make  careful  inquiries  into  your 
opinions,  and  as  soon  as  I  am  convinced  that  you 
can  be  set  free  with  safety  to  the  community  I'll 
drop  in  on  you  and  do  all  I  can.  Meanwhile,  so 
long." 

Yates'  one  desire  now  was  to  reach  a  telegraph 
office,  and  write  his  article  as  it  was  being  clicked 
off  on  the  machine.  He  had  his  fears  about  the 
speed  of  a  country  operator,  but  he  dared  not  risk 
trying  to  get  through  to  Buffalo  in  the  then  excited 
state  of  the  country.  He  quickly  made  up  his  mind 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         257 

to  go  to  the  Bartlett  place,  borrow  a  horse,  if  the 
Fenians  had  not  permanently  made  off  with  them 
all,  and  ride  as  rapidly  as  he  could  for  the  nearest 
telegraph  office.  He  soon  reached  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  and  made  his  way  across  the  fields  to  the 
house.  He  found  young  Bartlett  at  the  barn. 

"  Any  news  of  the  horses  yet  ? "  was  the  first 
question  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  young  Bartlett  gloomily ;  "  guess 
they've  rode  away  with  them." 

"  Well,  I  must  get  a  horse  from  somewhere  to 
ride  to  the  telegraph  office.  Where  is  the  likeliest 
place  to  find  one  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  can  get  one,  unless  you 
steal  the  telegraph  boy's  nag ;  it's  in  the  stable  now, 
having  a  feed." 

"What  telegraph  boy?" 

"Oh,  didn't  you  see  him?  He  went  out  to  the 
tent  to  look  for  you,  and  I  thought  he  had  found 
you." 

"  No,  I  haven't  been  at  the  tent  for  ever  so  long. 
Perhaps  he  has  some  news  for  me.  I'm  going  to 
the  house  to  write,  so  send  him  in  as  soon  as  he  gets 
back.  Be  sure  you  don't  let  him  get  away  before 
I  see  him." 

"I'll  lock  the  stable,"  said  Young  Bartlett,  "and 
then  he  won't  get  the  horse,  at  any  rate." 

Yates  found  Kitty  in  the  kitchen,  and  he  looked 
so  flurried  that  the  girl  cried  anxiously  : 

"Are  they  after  you  again,  Mr.  Yates?" 

"  No,  Kitty  ;  I'm  after  them.     Say,  I  want  all  the 


258        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

blank  paper  you  have  in  the  house.  Anything  will 
do,  so  long  as  it  will  hold  a  lead-pencil  mark." 

"A  copy  book — such  as  the  children  use  in 
school  ?  " 

"  Just  the  thing." 

In  less  than  a  minute  the  energetic  girl  had  all  the 
materials  he  required  ready  for  him  in  the  front 
room.  Yates  threw  off  his  coat,  and  went  to  work 
as  if  he  were  in  his  own  den  in  the  Argus  building. 

"  This  is  a of  a  vacation,"  he  muttered  to 

himself,  as  he  drove  his  pencil  at  lightning  speed 
over  the  surface  of  the  paper.  He  took  no  note  of 
the  time  until  he  had  finished  ;  then  he  roused  him- 
self and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  What  in  thunder  has  become  of  that  telegraph 
boy  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Well,  it  doesn't  matter ;  I'll  take 
the  horse  without  his  permission." 

He  gathered  up  his  sheets,  and  rushed  for  the 
kitchen.  He  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  the  boy 
sitting  there,  gorging  himself  with  the  good  things 
which  that  kitchen  always  afforded. 

"  Hello,  youngster !  how  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  let  him  go  in  to  disturb  you  while 
you  were  writing,"  said  Kitty,  the  boy's  mouth  be- 
ing too  full  to  permit  of  a  reply. 

"Ah,  that  was  right.  Now,  sonny,  gulp  that 
down  and  come  in  here  ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you  for 
a  minute." 

The  boy  followed  him  into  the  front  room. 

"  Well,  my  son,  I  want  to  borrow  your  horse  for 
the  rest  of  the  day." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          259 

"  You  can't  have  it,"  said  the  boy  promptly. 

"  Can't  have  it  ?  I  must  have  it.  Why,  I'll  take 
it.  You  don't  imagine  you  can  stop  me,  do  you  ?  " 

The  boy  drew  himself  up,  and  folded  his  arms 
across  his  breast. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  the  horse,  Mr.  Yates  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  want  to  get  to  the  nearest  telegraph  office.  I'll 
pay  you  well  for  it." 

"And  what  am  I  here  for?" 

"  Why,  to  eat,  of  course.  They'll  feed  you  high 
while  you  wait." 

"  Canadian  telegraph  office  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  It's  no  good,  Mr.  Yates.  Them  Canadians 
couldn't  telegraph  all  you've  written  in  two  weeks. 
I  know  *em,"  said  the  boy  with  infinite  scorn.  "  Be- 
sides, the  Government  has  got  hold  of  all  the  wires, 
and  you  can't  get  a  private  message  through  till  it 
gets  over  its  fright." 

"  By  George !  "  cried  Yates,  taken  aback,  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  that.  Are  you  sure,  boy  ?  " 

"  Dead  certain." 

"  Then  what's  to  be  done?  I  must  get  through 
to  Buffalo." 

"  You  can't.  United  States  troops  won't  let  you. 
They're  stopping  everybody — except  me,"  he  added, 
drawing  himself  up,  as  if  he  were  the  one  individual 
who  stood  in  with  the  United  States  Government. 

"  Can  you  get  this  despatch  through  ?  " 

"  You  bet !     That's  why  I  came  back.     I  knew, 


260         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

as  soon  as  I  looked  at  you,  that  you  would  write  two 
or  three  columns  of  telegraph  ;  and  your  paper  said 
'  Spare  no  expense,1  you  remember.  So  says  I  to 
myself:  Til  help  Mr.  Yates  to  spare  no  expense. 
I'll  get  fifty  dollars  from  that  young  man,  seeing 
I'm  the  only  person  who  can  get  across  in  time.'  " 

"  You  were  mighty  sure  of  it,  weren't  you  ?  " 

"  You  just  bet  I  was.  Now,  the  horse  is  fed  and 
ready,  I'm  fed  and  ready,  and  we're  losing  valuable 
time  waiting  for  that  fifty  dollars." 

"  Suppose  you  meet  another  newspaper  man  who 
wants  to  get  his  despatch  through  to  another  paper, 
what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  Charge  him  the  same  as  I  do  you.  If  I  meet 
two  other  newspaper  men,  that  will  be  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars ;  but  if  you  want  to  make  sure  that 
I  won't  meet  any  more  newspaper  men,  let  us  call  it 
one  hundred  dollars,  and  I'll  take  the  risk  of  the  odd 
fifty  for  the  ready  cash ;  then  if  I  meet  a  dozen 
newspaper  men,  I'll  tell  them  I'm  a  telegraph  boy 
on  a  vacation." 

"  Quite  so.  I  think  you  will  be  able  to  take  care 
of  yourself  in  a  cold  and  callous  world.  Now,  look 
here,  young  man  ;  I'll  trust  you  if  you'll  trust  me. 
I'm  not  a  traveling  mint,  you  know.  Besides,  I  pay 
by  results.  If  you  don't  get  this  despatch  through, 
you  don't  get  anything.  I'll  give  you  an  order  for  a 
hundred  dollars,  and  as  soon  as  I  get  to  Buffalo  I'll 
pay  you  the  cash.  I'll  have  to  draw  on  the  Argus 
when  I  get  to  Buffalo ;  if  my  article  has  appeared, 
you  get  your  cash  ;  if  it  hasn't,  you're  out.  See  ?  " 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         261 

"  Yes,  I  see.     It  won't  do,  Mr.  Yates." 

"  Why  won't  it  do  ?  " 

"  Because  I  say  it  won't.  This  is  a  cash  trans- 
action. Money  down,  or  you  don't  get  the  goods. 
I'll  get  it  through  all  right,  but  if  I  just  miss,  I'm 
not  going  to  lose  the  money." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  take  it  to  the  Canadian  telegraph 
office." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Yates.  I'm  disappointed  in  you. 
I  thought  you  were  some  good.  You  ain't  got  no 
sense,  but  I  wish  you  luck.  When  I  was  at  your 
tent,  there  was  a  man  with  a  hammer  taking  a  lot  of 
men  out  of  the  woods.  When  one  of  them  sees  my 
uniform,  he  sings  out  he'd  give  me  twenty-five  dol- 
lars to  take  his  stuff.  I  said  I'd  see  him  later,  and  I 
will.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Yates." 

"  Hold  on,  there  !  You're  a  young  villain.  You'll 
end  in  state's  prison  yet,  but  here's  your  money. 
Now,  you  ride  like  a  house  a-fire." 

After  watching  the  departing  boy  until  he  was  out 
of  sight  Yates,  with  a  feeling  of  relief,  journeyed  back 
to  the  tent.  He  was  worried  about  the  interview 
the  boy  had  had  with  Hawkins,  and  he  wondered, 
now  that  it  was  too  late,  whether,  after  all,  he  had 
not  Hawkins'  manuscript  in  his  pocket.  He  wished 
he  had  searched  him.  That  trouble,  however,  did 
not  prevent  him  from  sleeping  like  the  dead  the  mo- 
ment he  flung  himself  down  on  his  cot. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  result  of  the  struggle  was  similar  in  effect  to 
an  American  railway  accident  of  the  first  class.  One 
officer  and  five  privates  were  killed  on  the  Canadian 
side,  one  man  was  missing,  and  many  were  wounded. 
The  number  of  the  Fenians  killed  will  probably 
never  be  known.  Several  were  buried  on  the  field 
of  battle,  others  were  taken  back  by  O'Neill's  brig- 
ade when  they  retreated. 

Although  the  engagement  ended  as  Yates  had  pre- 
dicted, yet  he  was  wrong  in  his  estimate  of  the 
Canadians.  Volunteers  are  invariably  underrated 
by  men  of  experience  in  military  matters.  The  boys 
fought  well,  even  when  they  saw  their  ensign  fall 
dead  before  them.  If  the  affair  had  been  left  en- 
tirely in  their  hands,  the  result  might  have  been 
different — as  was  shown  afterward,  when  the  volun- 
teers, unimpeded  by  regulars,  quickly  put  down  a 
much  more  formidable  rising  in  the  Northwest.  But 
in  the  present  case  they  were  hampered  by  their  de- 
pendence on  the  British  troops,  whose  commander 
moved  them  with  all  the  ponderous  slowness  of  real 
war,  and  approached  O'Neill  as  if  he  had  been  ap- 
proaching Napoleon.  He  thus  managed  to  get  in  a 
262 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         263 

day  after  the  fair  on  every  occasion,  being  too  late 
for  the  fight  at  Ridgeway,  and  too  late  to  capture 
any  considerable  number  of  the  flying  Fenians  at 
Fort  Erie.  The  campaign,  on  the  Canadian  side, 
was  magnificently  planned  and  wretchedly  carried 
out.  The  volunteers  and  regulars  were  to  meet  at  a 
point  close  to  the  spot  the  fight  took  place,  but  the 
British  commander  delayed  two  hours  in  starting, 
which  fact  the  Canadian  colonel  did  not  learn  until 
too  late.  These  blunders  culminated  in  a  ghastly 
mistake  on  the  field.  The  Canadian  colonel  ordered 
his  men  to  charge  across  an  open  field,  and  attack 
the  Fenian  force  in  the  woods — a  brilliant  but  fool- 
ish move.  To  the  command  the  volunteers  gal- 
lantly responded,  but  against  stupidity  the  gods  are 
powerless.  In  the  field  they  were  appalled  to  hear 
the  order  given  to  form  square  and  receive  cavalry. 
Even  the  schoolboys  knew  the  Fenians  could  have 
no  cavalry. 

Having  formed  their  square,  the  Canadians  found 
themselves  the  helpless  targets  of  the  Fenians  in  the 
woods.  If  O'Neill's  forces  had  shot  with  reasonable 
precision,  they  must  have  cut  the  volunteers  to 
pieces.  The  latter  were  victorious,  if  they  had  only 
known  it ;  but,  in  this  hopeless  square,  panic  seized 
them,  and  it  was  every  man  for  himself  ;  at  the  same 
time,  the  Fenians  were  also  retreating  as  fast  as  they 
could.  This  farce  is  known  as  the  battle  of  Ridge- 
way,  and  would  have  been  comical  had  it  not  been 
that  death  hovered  over  it.  The  comedy,  without 
the  tragedy,  was  enacted  a  day  or  two  before  at  a 


264         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

bloodless  skirmish  which  took  place  near  a  hamlet 
called  Waterloo,  which  affray  is  dignified  in  Cana- 
dian annals  as  the  second  battle  of  that  name. 

When  the  Canadian  forces  retreated,  Renmark, 
who  had  watched  the  contest  with  all  the  helpless 
anxiety  of  a  noncombatant,  sharing  the  danger,  but 
having  no  influence  upon  the  result,  followed  them, 
making  a  wide  detour  to  avoid  the  chance  shots 
which  were  still  flying.  He  expected  to  come  up 
with  the  volunteers  on  the  road,  but  failed  to  do  so. 
Through  various  miscalculations  he  did  not  succeed 
in  finding  them  until  toward  evening.  At  first  they 
told  him  that  young  Howard  was  with  the  company, 
and  unhurt,  but  further  inquiry  soon  disclosed  the 
fact  that  he  had  not  been  seen  since  the  fight.  He 
was  not  among  those  who  were  killed  or  wounded, 
and  it  was  nightfall  before  Renmark  realised  that 
opposite  his  name  on  the  roll  would  be  placed  the 
ominous  word  "  missing."  Renmark  remembered 
that  the  boy  had  said  he  would  visit  his  home  if  he 
got  leave ;  but  no  leave  had  been  asked  for.  At 
last  Renmark  was  convinced  that  young  Howard 
was  either  badly  wounded  or  dead.  The  possibility 
of  his  desertion  the  professor  did  not  consider  for  a 
moment,  although  he  admitted  to  himself  that  it 
was  hard  to  tell  what  panic  of  fear  might  come  over 
a  boy  who,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  found  bullets 
flying  about  his  ears. 

With  a  heavy  heart  Renmark  turned  back  and 
made  his  way  to  the  fatal  field.  He  found  nothing 
on  the  Canadian  side.  Going  over  to  the  woods,  he 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         265 

came  across  several  bodies  lying  where  they  fell ;  but 
they  were  all  those  of  strangers.  Even  in  the  dark- 
ness he  would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising 
the  volunteer  uniform  which  he  knew  so  well.  He 
walked  down  to  the  Howard  homestead,  hoping,  yet 
fearing,  to  hear  the  boy's  voice — the  voice  of  a  de- 
serter. Everything  was  silent  about  the  house,  al- 
though a  light  shone  through  an  upper  window,  and 
also  through  one  below.  He  paused  at  the  gate, 
not  knowing  what  to  do.  It  was  evident  the  boy 
was  not  here,  yet  how  to  find  the  father  or  brother, 
without  alarming  Margaret  or  her  mother,  puzzled 
him.  As  he  stood  there  the  door  opened,  and  he 
recognised  Mrs.  Bartlett  and  Margaret  standing  in 
the  light.  He  moved  away  from  the  gate,  and  heard 
the  older  woman  say  : 

"  Oh,  she  will  be  all  right  in  the  morning,  now 
that  she  has  fallen  into  a  nice  sleep.  I  wouldn't 
disturb  her  to-night,  if  I  were  you.  It  is  nothing 
but  nervousness  and  fright  at  that  horrible  firing.  It's 
all  over  now,  thank  God.  Good-night,  Margaret." 

The  good  woman  came  through  the  gate,  and 
then  ran,  with  all  the  speed  of  sixteen,  toward  her 
own  home.  Margaret  stood  in  the  doorway,  listen- 
ing to  the  retreating  footsteps.  She  was  pale  and 
anxious,  but  Renmark  thought  he  had  never  seen 
anyone  so  lovely ;  and  he  was  startled  to  find  that 
he  had  a  most  un-professor-like  longing  to  take  her 
in  his  arms  and  comfort  her.  Instead  of  bringing 
her  consolation,  he  feared  it  would  be  his  fate  to 
add  to  her  anxiety  ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  saw  she 


266         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

was  about  to  close  the  door  that  he  found  courage 
to  speak. 

"  Margaret,"  he  said. 

The  girl  had  never  heard  her  name  pronounced  in 
that  tone  before,  and  the  cadence  of  it  went  direct 
to  her  heart,  frightening  her  with  an  unknown  joy. 
She  seemed  unable  to  move  or  respond,  and  stood 
there,  with  wide  eyes  and  suspended  breath,  gazing 
into  the  darkness.  Renmark  stepped  into  the  light, 
and  she  saw  his  face  was  haggard  with  fatigue  and 
anxiety. 

"  Margaret,"  he  said  again,  "  I  want  to  speak  with 
you  a  moment.  Where  is  your  brother?" 

"  He  has  gone  with  Mr.  Bartlett  to  see  if  he  can 
find  the  horses.  There  is  something  wrong,"  she 
continued,  stepping  down  beside  him.  "  I  can  see 
it  in  your  face.  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Is  your  father  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  worried  about  mother.  Tell  me 
what  it  is.  It  is  better  to  tell  me." 

Renmark  hesitated. 

"  Don't  keep  me  in  suspense  like  this,"  cried  the 
girl  in  a  low  but  intense  voice.  "  You  have  said  too 
much  or  too  little.  Has  anything  happened  to 
Henry  ?  " 

"  No.  It  is  about  Arthur  I  wanted  to  speak.  You 
will  not  be  alarmed  ?  " 

"  I  am  alarmed.  Tell  me  quickly."  And  the  girl 
in  her  excitement  laid  her  hands  imploringly  on  his. 

"  Arthur  joined  the  volunteers  in  Toronto  some 
time  ago.  Did  you  know  that?  " 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS        267 

"  He  never  told  me.  I  understand — I  think  so, 
but  I  hope  not.  He  was  in  the  battle  to-day.  Is 
he — has  he  been — hurt  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I'm  afraid  so,"  said  Renmark 
hurriedly,  now  that  the  truth  had  to  come  out ;  he 
realised,  by  the  nervous  tightening  of  the  girl's  un- 
conscious grasp,  how  clumsily  he  was  telling  it. 
"  He  was  with  the  volunteers  this  morning.  He  is 
not  with  them  now.  They  don't  know  where  he  is. 
No  one  saw  him  hurt,  but  it  is  feared  he  was,  and 
that  he  has  been  left  behind.  I  have  been  all  over 
the  ground." 

"  Yes,  yes  ?  " 

"  But  I  could  not  find  him.  I  came  here  hoping 
to  find  him." 

"  Take  me  to  where  the  volunteers  were,"  she 
sobbed.  "  I  know  what  has  happened.  Come 
quickly." 

"  Will  you  not  put  something  on  your  head  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  Come  at  once."  Then,  pausing,  she 
said  :  "  Shall  we  need  a  lantern  ?  " 

"  No  ;  it  is  light  enough  when  we  get  out  from 
the  shadow  of  the  house." 

Margaret  ran  along  the  road  so  swiftly  that  Ren- 
mark  had  some  trouble  in  keeping  pace  with  her. 
She  turned  at  the  side  road,  and  sped  up  the 
gentle  ascent  to  the  spot  where  the  volunteers  had 
crossed  it. 

"  Here  is  the  place,"  said  Renmark. 

"  He  could  not  have  been  hit  in  the  field,"  she 
cried  breathlessly,  "  for  then  he  might  have  reached 


268          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

the  house  at  the  corner  without  climbing  a  fence. 
If  he  was  badly  hurt,  he  would  have  been  here.  Did 
you  search  this  field  ?  " 

"  Every  bit  of  it.     He  is  not  here." 

"  Then  it  must  have  happened  after  he  crossed  the 
road  and  the  second  fence.  Did  you  see  the  battle  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Did  the  Fenians  cross  the  field  after  the  volun- 
teers  ?  " 

"  No  ;  they  did  not  leave  the  woods." 

"  Then,  if  he  was  struck,  it  could  not  have  been 
far  from  the  other  side  of  the  second  fence.  He 
would  be  the  last  to  retreat ;  and  that  is  why  the 
others  did  not  see  him,"  said  the  girl,  with  confident 
pride  in  her  brother's  courage. 

They  crossed  the  first  fence,  the  road,  and  the 
second  fence,  the  girl  walking  ahead  for  a  few  paces. 
She  stopped,  and  leaned  for  a  moment  against  a 
tree.  "  It  must  have  been  about  here,"  she  said  in  a 
voice  hardly  audible.  "  Have  you  searched  on  this 
side?" 

"  Yes,  for  half  a  mile  farther  into  the  fields  and 
woods." 

"  No,  no,  not  there ;  but  down  along  the  fence. 
He  knew  every  inch  of  this  ground.  If  he  were 
wounded  here,  he  would  at  once  try  to  reach  our 
house.  Search  down  along  the  fence.  I — I  cannot 

go-" 

Renmark  walked  along  the  fence,  peering  into  the 
dark  corners  made  by  the  zigzag  of  the  rails ;  and 
he  knew,  without  looking  back,  that  Margaret,  with 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         269 

feminine  inconsistency,  was  following  him.  Sud- 
denly she  darted  past  him,  and  flung  herself  down 
in  the  long  grass,  wailing  out  a  cry  that  cut  Renmark 
like  a  knife. 

The  boy  lay  with  his  face  in  the  grass,  and  his 
outstretched  hand  grasping  the  lower  rail  of  the  fence. 
He  had  dragged  himself  this  far,  and  reached  an  in- 
surmountable obstacle. 

Renmark  drew  the  weeping  girl  gently  away,  and 
rapidly  ran  his  hand  over  the  prostrate  lad.  He 
quickly  opened  his  tunic,  and  a  thrill  of  joy  passed 
over  him  as  he  felt  the  faint  beating  of  the  heart. 

"  He  is  alive !  "  he  cried.  "  He  will  get  well, 
Margaret."  A  statement  somewhat  premature  to 
make  on  so  hasty  an  examination. 

He  rose,  expecting  a  look  of  gratitude  from  the 
girl  he  loved.  He  was  amazed  to  see  her  eyes  al- 
most luminous  in  the  darkness,  blazing  with  wrath. 

"  When  did  you  know  he  was  with  the  volun- 
teers?" 

"  This  morning — early,"  said  the  professor,  taken 
aback. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  He  asked  me  not  to  do  so." 

"  He  is  a  mere  boy.  You  are  a  man,  and  ought 
to  have  a  man's  sense.  You  had  no  right  to  mind 
what  a  boy  said.  It  was  my  right  to  know,  and  your 
duty  to  tell  me.  Through  your  negligence  and 
stupidity  my  brother  has  lain  here  all  day — per- 
haps dying,"  she  added  with  a  break  in  her  angry 
voice. 


270         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  If  you  had  known — I  didn't  know  anything  was 
wrong  until  I  saw  the  volunteers.  I  have  not  lost  a 
moment  since." 

"  I  should  have  known  he  was  missing,  without 
going  to  the  volunteers." 

Renmark  was  so  amazed  at  the  unjust  accusation, 
from  a  girl  whom  he  had  made  the  mistake  of  be- 
lieving to  be  without  a  temper  of  her  own,  that  he 
knew  not  what  to  say.  He  was,  however,  to  have 
one  more  example  of  inconsistency. 

"  Why  do  you  stand  there  doing  nothing,  now 
that  I  have  found  him  ?  "  she  demanded. 

It  was  on  his  tongue  to  say  :  "  I  stand  here  be- 
cause you  stand  there  unjustly  quarrelling  with  me," 
but  he  did  not  say  it.  Renmark  was  not  a  ready 
man,  yet  he  did,  for  once,  the  right  thing. 

"  Margaret,"  he  said  sternly,  "  throw  down  that 
fence." 

This  curt  command,  delivered  in  his  most  school- 
mastery  manner,  was  instantly  obeyed.  Such  a  task 
may  seem  a  formidable  one  to  set  to  a  young  woman, 
but  it  is  a  feat  easily  accomplished  in  some  parts  of 
America.  A  rail  fence  lends  itself  readily  to  demo- 
lition. Margaret  tossed  a  rail  to  the  right,  one  to 
the  left,  and  one  to  the  right  again,  until  an  open 
gap  took  the  place  of  that  part  of  the  fence.  The 
professor  examined  the  young  soldier  in  the  mean- 
time, and  found  his  leg  had  been  broken  by  a  musket 
ball.  He  raised  him  up  tenderly  in  his  arms,  and 
was  pleased  to  hear  a  groan  escape  his  lips.  He 
walked  through  the  open  gap  and  along  the  road 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         271 

toward  the  house,  bearing  the  unconscious  form  of 
his  pupil.  Margaret  silently  kept  close  to  his  side, 
her  fingers  every  now  and  then  unconsciously  caress- 
ing the  damp,  curly  locks  of  her  brother. 

"  We  shall  have  to  get  a  doctor?  "  Her  assertion 
was  half  an  inquiry. 

"  Certainly." 

"  We  must  not  disturb  anyone  in  the  house.  It 
is  better  that  I  should  tell  you  what  to  do  now,  so 
that  we  need  not  talk  when  we  reach  there." 

"  We  cannot  help  disturbing  someone." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  necessary.  If  you  will 
stay  with  Arthur,  I  will  go  for  the  doctor,  and  no 
one  need  know." 

"  I  will  go  for  the  doctor." 

"  You  do  not  know  the  way.  It  is  five  or  six 
miles.  I  will  ride  Gypsy,  and  will  soon  be  back." 

"  But  there  are  prowlers  and  stragglers  all  along 
the  roads.  It  is  not  safe  for  you  to  go  alone." 

"  It  is  perfectly  safe.  No  horse  that  the  stragglers 
have  stolen  can  overtake  Gypsy.  Now,  don't  say 
anything  more.  It  is  best  that  I  should  go.  I  will 
run  on  ahead,  and  enter  the  house  quietly.  I  will 
take  the  lamp  to  the  room  at  the  side,  where  the 
window  opens  to  the  floor.  Carry  him  around  there. 
I  will  be  waiting  for  you  at  the  gate,  and  will  show 
you  the  way." 

With  that  the  girl  was  off,  and  Renmark  carried 
his  burden  alone.  She  was  waiting  for  him  at  the 
gate,  and  silently  led  the  way  round  the  house,  to 
where  the  door-window  opened  upon  the  bit  of  lawn 


272          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

under  an  apple  tree.  The  light  streamed  out  upon 
the  grass.  He  placed  the  boy  gently  upon  the 
dainty  bed.  It  needed  no  second  glance  to  tell  Ren- 
mark  whose  room  he  was  in.  It  was  decorated  with 
those  pretty  little  knickknacks  so  dear  to  the  heart 
of  a  girl  in  a  snuggery  she  can  call  her  own. 

"  It  is  not  likely  you  will  be  disturbed  here,"  she 
whispered,  "  until  I  return.  I  will  tap  at  the  window 
when  I  come  with  the  doctor." 

'*  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  and  safer  for 
me  to  go  ?  I  don't  like  the  thought  of  your  going 
alone." 

"  No,  no.  Please  do  just  what  I  tell  you.  You 
do  not  know  the  way.  I  shall  be  very  much  quicker. 
If  Arthur  should — should — wake  he  will  know  you, 
and  will  not  be  alarmed,  as  he  might  be  if  you  were 
a  stranger." 

Margaret  was  gone  before  he  could  say  anything 
more,  and  Renmark  sat  down,  devoutly  hoping  no 
one  would  rap  at  the  door  of  the  room  while  he  was 
there. 


CHAPTER    XX 

MARGARET  spoke  caressingly  to  her  horse,  when 
she  opened  the  stable  door,  and  Gypsy  replied  with 
that  affectionate,  low  guttural  whinny  which  the 
Scotch  graphically  term  "nickering."  She  patted 
the  little  animal ;  and  if  Gypsy  was  surprised  at 
being  saddled  and  bridled  at  that  hour  of  the  night, 
no  protest  was  made,  the  horse  merely  rubbing  its 
nose  lovingly  up  and  down  Margaret's  sleeve  as  she 
buckled  the  different  straps.  There  was  evidently 
a  good  understanding  between  the  two. 

"  No,  Gyp,"  she  whispered,  "  I  have  nothing  for 
you  to-night — nothing  but  hard  work  and  quick 
work.  Now,  you  mustn't  make  a  noise  till  we  get 
past  the  house." 

On  her  wrist  she  slipped  the  loop  of  a  riding  whip, 
which  she  always  carried,  but  never  used.  Gyp  had 
never  felt  the  indignity  of  the  lash,  and  was  always 
willing  to  do  what  was  required  merely  for  a  word. 

Margaret  opened  the  big  gate  before  she  mounted 
her  horse,  and  there  was  therefore  no  delay  in  get- 
ting out  upon  the  main  road,  although  the  passing 
of  the  house  was  an  anxious  moment.  She  feared 
that  if  her  father  heard  the  steps  or  the  neighing  of 
18  273 


274          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

the  horse  he  might  come  out  to  investigate.  Half- 
way between  her  own  home  and  Bartlett's  house  she 
sprang  lightly  into  the  saddle. 

"  Now,  then,  Gyp  !  " 

No  second  word  was  required.  Away  they  sped 
down  the  road  toward  the  east,  the  mild  June  air 
coming  sweet  and  cool  and  fresh  from  the  distant 
lake,  laden  with  the  odours  of  the  woods  and  the 
fields.  The  stillness  was  intense,  broken  only  by 
the  plaintive  cry  of  the  whip-poorwill,  America's 
one-phrased  nightingale,  or  the  still  more  weird  and 
eerie  note  of  a  distant  loon. 

The  houses  along  the  road  seemed  deserted ;  no 
lights  were  shown  anywhere.  The  wildest  rumours 
were  abroad  concerning  the  slaughter  of  the  day ; 
and  the  population,  scattered  as  it  was,  appeared  to 
have  retired  into  its  shell.  A  spell  of  silence  and 
darkness  was  over  the  land,  and  the  rapid  hoof  beats 
of  the  horse  sounded  with  startling  distinctness  on 
the  harder  portions  of  the  road,  emphasised  by 
intervals  of  complete  stillness,  when  the  fetlocks 
sank  in  the  sand  and  progress  was  more  difficult  for 
the  plucky  little  animal.  The  only  thrill  of  fear 
that  Margaret  experienced  during  her  night  journey 
was  when  she  entered  the  dark  arch  of  an  avenue  of 
old  forest  trees  that  bordered  the  road,  like  a  great, 
gloomy  cathedral  aisle,  in  the  shadow  of  which  any- 
thing might  be  hidden.  Once  the  horse,  with  a 
jump  of  fear,  started  sideways  and  plunged  ahead : 
Margaret  caught  her  breath  as  she  saw,  or  fancied 
she  saw,  several  men  stretched  on  the  roadside, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS        275 

asleep  or  dead.  Once  in  the  open  again  she  breathed 
more  freely,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  jump  of 
the  horse,  she  would  have  accused  her  imagination 
of  playing  her  a  trick.  Just  as  she  had  completely 
reassured  herself,  a  shadow  moved  from  the  fence  to 
the  middle  of  the  road,  and  a  sharp  voice  cried : 

"Halt!" 

The  little  horse,  as  if  it  knew  the  meaning  of  the 
word,  planted  its  two  front  hoofs  together,  and  slid 
along  the  ground  for  a  moment,  coming  so  quickly 
to  a  standstill  that  it  was  with  some  difficulty  Mar- 
garet kept  her  seat.  She  saw  in  front  of  her  a 
man  holding  a  gun,  evidently  ready  to  fire  if  she 
attempted  to  disobey  his  command. 

"Who  are  you,  and  where  are  you  going?"  he 
demanded. 

"  Oh,  please  let  me  pass ! "  pleaded  Margaret  with 
a  tremour  of  fear  in  her  voice.  "  I  am  going  for  a 
doctor — for  my  brother ;  he  is  badly  wounded,  and 
will  perhaps  die  if  I  am  delayed." 

The  man  laughed. 

"  Oho  !  "  he  cried,  coming  closer;  "  a  woman,  is  it  ? 
and  a  young  one,  too,  or  I'm  a  heathen.  Now,  miss 
or  missus,  you  get  down.  I'll  have  to  investigate 
this.  The  brother  business  won't  work  with  an  old 
soldier.  It's  your  lover  you're  riding  for  at  this 
time  of  the  night,  or  I'm  no  judge  of  the  sex.  Just 
slip  down  my  lady,  and  see  if  you  don't  like  me 
better  than  him  ;  remember  that  all  cats  are  black  in 
the  dark.  Get  down,  I  tell  you." 

"  If  you  are  a  soldier,  you  will  let  me  go.     My 


276        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

brother  is  badly  wounded.  I  must  get  to  the 
doctor." 

"  There's  no  '  must '  with  a  bayonet  in  front  of 
you.  If  he  has  been  wounded,  there's  plenty  of 
better  men  killed  to-day.  Come  down,  my  dear." 

Margaret  gathered  up  the  bridle  rein,  but,  even  in 
the  darkness,  the  man  saw  her  intention. 

"  You  can't  escape,  my  pretty.  If  you  try  it, 
you'll  not  be  hurt,  but  I'll  kill  your  horse.  If  you 
move,  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  him." 

"  Kill  my  horse?"  breathed  Margaret  in  horror,  a 
fear  coming  over  her  that  she  had  not  felt  at  the 
thought  of  danger  to  herself. 

"  Yes,  missy,"  said  the  man,  approaching  nearer, 
and  laying  his  hand  on  Gypsy's  bridle.  "  But  there 
will  be  no  need  of  that.  Besides,  it  would  make 
too  much  noise,  and  might  bring  us  company,  which 
would  be  inconvenieut.  So  come  down  quietly,  like 
the  nice  little  girl  you  are." 

"  If  you  will  let  me  go  and  tell  the  doctor,  I  will 
come  back  here  and  be  your  prisoner." 

The  man  laughed  again  in  low,  tantalizing  tones. 
This  was  a  good  joke. 

"Oh,  no,  sweetheart.  I  wasn't  born  so  recently 
as  all  that.  A  girl  in  the  hand  is  worth  a  dozen  a 
mile  up  the  road.  Now,  come  off  that  horse,  or  I'll 
take  you  off.  This  is  war  time,  and  I'm  not  going 
to  waste  any  more  pretty  talk  on  you." 

The  man,  who,  she  now  saw,  was  hatless,  leered 
up  at  her,  and  something  in  his  sinister  eyes  made 
the  girl  quail.  She  had  been  so  quiet  that  he  appar- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          277 

ently  was  not  prepared  for  any  sudden  movement. 
Her  right  hand,  hanging  down  at  her  side,  had 
grasped  the  short  riding  whip,  and,  with  a  swiftness 
that  gave  him  no  chance  to  ward  off  the  blow,  she 
struck  him  one  stinging,  blinding  cut  across  the  eyes, 
and  then  brought  down  the  lash  on  the  flank  of  her 
horse,  drawing  the  animal  round  with  her  left  over 
the  enemy.  With  a  wild  snort  of  astonishment,  the 
horse  sprang  forward,  bringing  man  and  gun  down 
to  the  ground  with  a  clatter  that  woke  the  echoes ; 
then,  with  an  indignant  toss  of  the  head,  Gyp  sped 
along  the  road  like  the  wind.  It  was  the  first  time 
he  had  ever  felt  the  cut  of  a  whip,  and  the  blow  was 
not  forgiven.  Margaret,  fearing  further  obstruction 
on  the  road,  turned  her  horse's  head  toward  the  rail 
fence,  and  went  over  it  like  a  bird.  In  the  field, 
where  fast  going  in  the  dark  had  dangers,  Margaret 
tried  to  slacken  the  pace,  but  the  little  horse  would 
not  have  it  so.  He  shook  his  head  angrily  whenever 
he  thought  of  the  indignity  of  that  blow,  while  Mar- 
garet leaned  over  and  tried  to  explain  and  beg  pardon 
for  her  offence.  The  second  fence  was  crossed  with 
a  clean-cut  leap,  and  only  once  in  the  next  field  did 
the  horse  stumble,  but  quickly  recovered  and  went 
on  at  the  same  breakneck  gait.  The  next  fence, 
gallantly  vaulted,  brought  them  to  the  side  road 
within  half  a  mile  of  the  doctor's  house.  Margaret 
saw  the  futility  of  attempting  a  reconciliation  until 
the  goal  was  won.  There,  with  difficulty,  the  horse 
was  stopped,  and  the  girl  struck  the  panes  of  the 
upper  window,  through  which  a  light  shone,  with 


278         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

her  riding  whip.  The  window  was  raised,  and  the 
situation  speedily  explained  to  the  physician. 

"  I  will  be  with  you  in  a  moment,"  he  said. 

Then  Margaret  slid  from  the  saddle,  and  put  her 
arms  around  the  neck  of  the  trembling  horse.  Gypsy 
would  admit  of  no  compromise,  and  sniffed  the  air 
with  offended  dignity. 

"  It  was  a  shame,  Gyp,"  she  cried,  almost  tearfully, 
stroking  the  glossy  neck  of  her  resentful  friend  ; 
"  it  was,  it  was,  and  I  know  it ;  but  what  was  I  to 
do,  Gyp  ?  You  were  the  only  protector  I  had,  and 
you  did  bowl  him  over  beautifully  ;  no  other  horse 
could  have  done  it  so  well.  It's  wicked,  but  I  do 
hope  you  hurt  him,  just  because  I  had  to  strike  you." 

Gypsy  was  still  wrathful,  and  indicated  by  a  toss 
of  the  head  that  the  wheedling  of  a  woman  did  not 
make  up  for  a  blow.  It  was  the  insult  more  than 
the  pain  ;  and  from  her — there  was  the  sting  of  it. 

"  I  know — I  know  just  how  you  feel,  Gypsy  dear; 
and  I  don't  blame  you  for  being  angry.  I  might 
have  spoken  to  you,  of  course,  but  there  was  no  time 
to  think,  and  it  was  really  him  I  was  striking. 
That's  why  it  came  down  so  hard.  If  I  had  said  a 
word,  he  would  have  got  out  of  the  way,  coward 
that  he  was,  and  then  would  have  shot  you — you, 
Gypsy  !  Think  of  it !  " 

If  a  man  can  be  moulded  to  any  shape  that  pleases 
a  clever  woman,  how  can  a  horse  expect  to  be  ex- 
empt from  her  influence  ?  Gypsy  showed  signs  of 
melting,  whinnying  softly  and  forgivingly. 

"  And  it  will  never  happen  again,  Gypsy — never, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          279 

never.  As  soon  as  we  are  safe  home  again  I  will 
burn  that  whip.  You  little  pet,  I  knew  you 
wouldn't " 

Gypsy's  head  rested  on  Margaret's  shoulder,  and 
we  must  draw  a  veil  over  the  reconciliation.  Some 
things  are  too  sacred  for  a  mere  man  to  meddle 
with.  The  friends  were  friends  once  more,  and  on 
the  altar  of  friendship  the  unoffending  whip  was 
doubtless  offered  as  a  burning  sacrifice. 

When  the  doctor  came  out,  Margaret  explained 
the  danger  of  the  road,  and  proposed  that  they 
should  return  by  the  longer  and  northern  way — the 
Concession,  as  it  was  called. 

They  met  no  one  on  the  silent  road,  and  soon  they 
saw  the  light  in  the  window. 

The  doctor  and  the  girl  left  their  horses  tied  some 
distance  from  the  house,  and  walked  together  to 
the  window  with  the  stealthy  steps  of  a  pair  of 
housebreakers.  Margaret  listened  breathlessly  at 
the  closed  window,  and  thought  she  heard  the  low 
murmur  of  conversation.  She  tapped  lightly  on  the 
pane,  and  the  professor  threw  back  the  door-window. 

"  We  were  getting  very  anxious  about  you,"  he 
whispered. 

"  Hello,  Peggy !  "  said  the  boy,  with  a  wan  smile, 
raising  his  head  slightly  from  the  pillow  and  drop- 
ping it  back  again. 

Margaret  stooped  over  and  kissed  him. 

"  My  poor  boy !  what  a  fright  you  have  given 
me!" 

"  Ah,  Margery,  think  what  a  fright  I  got  myself. 


280          IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

I  thought  I  was  going  to  die  within  sight  of  the 
house." 

The  doctor  gently  pushed  Margaret  from  the 
room.  Renmark  waited  until  the  examination  was 
over,  and  then  went  out  to  find  her. 

She  sprang  forward  to  meet  him. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "There  is  nothing  to 
fear.  He  has  been  exhausted  by  loss  of  blood,  but 
a  few  days'  quiet  will  set  that  right.  Then  all  you 
will  have  to  contend  against  will  be  his  impatience 
at  being  kept  to  his  room,  which  may  be  necessary 
for  some  weeks." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  and — and  I  am  so  much 
obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Renmark  !  " 

"  I  have  done  nothing — except  make  blunders," 
replied  the  professor  with  a  bitterness  that  surprised 
and  hurt  her. 

"  How  can  you  say  that  ?  You  have  done  every- 
thing. We  owe  his  life  to  you." 

Renmark  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  Her  unjust 
accusation  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  night  had  pained 
him  deeply,  and  he  hoped  for  some  hint  of  disclaimer 
from  her.  Belonging  to  the  stupider  sex,  he  did 
not  realise  that  the  words  were  spoken  in  a  state  of 
intense  excitement  and  fear,  that  another  woman 
would  probably  have  expressed  her  condition  of 
mind  by  fainting  instead  of  talking,  and  that  the 
whole  episode  had  left  absolutely  no  trace  on  the 
recollection  of  Margaret.  At  last  Renmark  spoke  : 

"  I  must  be  getting  back  to  the  tent,  if  it  still 
exists.  I  think  I  had  an  appointment  there  with 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         281 

Yates  some  twelve  hours  ago,  but  up  to  this  moment 
I  had  forgotten  it.  Good-night." 

Margaret  stood  for  a  few  moments  alone,  and 
wondered  what  she  had  done  to  offend  him.  He 
stumbled  along  the  dark  road,  not  heeding  much 
the  direction  he  took,  but  automatically  going  the 
nearest  way  to  the  tent.  Fatigue  and  the  want  of 
sleep  were  heavy  upon  him,  and  his  feet  were  as 
lead.  Although  dazed,  he  was  conscious  of  a  dull 
ache  where  his  heart  was  supposed  to  be,  and  he 
vaguely  hoped  he  had  not  made  a  fool  of  himself. 
He  entered  the  tent,  and  was  startled  by  the  voice 
of  Yates : 

"  Hello  !  hello  !     Is  that  you,  Stoliker  ?  " 

"  No  ;  it  is  Renmark.     Are  you  asleep  ?" 

"  I  guess  I  have  been.  Hunger  is  the  one  sensa- 
tion of  the  moment.  Have  you  provided  anything 
to  eat  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours?" 

"  There's  a  bag  full  of  potatoes  here,  I  believe. 
I  haven't  been  near  the  tent  since  early  morning." 

"  All  right  ;  only  don't  expect  a  recommendation 
from  me  as  cook.  I'm  not  yet  hungry  enough  for 
raw  potatoes.  What  time  has  it  got  to  be  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  Seems  as  if  I  had  been  asleep  for  weeks.  I'm 
the  latest  edition  of  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and  expect  to 
find  my  moustache  grey  in  the  morning.  I  was 
dreaming  sweetly  of  Stoliker  when  you  fell  over  the 
bunk." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  him  ?  " 

a  I'm  not  wide  enough  awake  to  remember.     I 


282         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

think  I  killed  him,  but  wouldn't  be  sure.  So  many 
of  my  good  resolutions  go  wrong  that  very  likely  he 
is  alive  at  this  moment.  Ask  me  in  the  morning. 
What  have  you  been  prowling  after  all  night  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  Renmark  was  evidently 
asleep. 

"  I'll  ask  you  in  the  morning,"  muttered  Yates 
drowsily — after  which  there  was  silence  in  the  tent. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

YATES  had  stubbornly  refused  to  give  up  his 
search  for  rest  and  quiet  in  spite  of  the  discomfort 
of  living  in  a  leaky  and  battered  tent.  He  expressed 
regret  that  he  had  not  originally  camped  in  the 
middle  of  Broadway,  as  being  a  quieter  and  less 
exciting  spot  than  the  place  he  had  chosen  ;  but, 
having  made  the  choice,  he  was  going  to  see  the  last 
dog  hung,  he  said.  Renmark  had  become  less  and 
less  of  a  comrade.  He  was  silent,  and  almost  as 
gloomy  as  Hiram  Bartlett  himself.  When  Yates 
tried  to  cheer  him  by  showing  how  much  worse 
another  man's  position  might  be,  Renmark  generally 
ended  the  talk  by  taking  to  the  woods. 

"  Just  reflect  on  my  position,"  Yates  would  say. 
"  Here  I  am  dead  in  love  with  two  lovely  girls,  both 
of  whom  are  merely  waiting  for  the  word.  To  one 
of  them  I  have  nearly  committed  myself,  which  fact, 
to  a  man  of  my  temperament,  inclines  me  somewhat 
to  the  other.  Here  I  am  anxious  to  confide  in  you, 
and  yet  I  feel  that  I  risk  a  fight  every  time  I  talk 
about  the  complication.  You  have  no  sympathy 
for  me,  Renny,  when  I  need  sympathy ;  while  I  am 

bubbling  over  with  sympathy  for  you,  and  you  won't 

283 


284         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

have  it.  Now,  what  would  you  do  if  you  were  in 
my  fix  ?  If  you  would  take  five  minutes  and  show 
me  clearly  which  of  the  two  girls  I  really  ought  to 
marry  it  would  help  me  ever  so  much,  for  then  I 
would  be  sure  to  settle  on  the  other.  It  is  the  in- 
decision that  is  slowly  but  surely  sapping  my 
vitality." 

By  this  time  Renmark  would  have  pulled  his  soft 
felt  hat  over  his  eyes,  and,  muttering  words  that 
would  have  echoed  strangely  in  the  silent  halls  of 
the  university  building,  would  plunge  into  the  forest. 
Yates  generally  looked  after  his  retreating  figure 
without  anger,  but  with  mild  wonder. 

"  Well,  of  all  cantankerous  cranks  he  is  the  worst," 
he  would  say  with  a  sigh.  "  It  is  sad  to  see  the 
temple  of  friendship  tumble  down  about  one's  ears 
in  this  way."  At  their  last  talk  of  this  kind  Yates 
resolved  not  to  discuss  the  problem  again  with  the 
professor,  unless  a  crisis  came.  The  crisis  came  in 
the  form  of  Stoliker,  who  dropped  in  on  Yates  as  the 
latter  lay  in  the  hammock,  smoking  and  enjoying  a 
thrilling  romance.  The  camp  was  strewn  with  these 
engrossing,  paper-covered  works,  and  Yates  had  read 
many  of  them,  hoping  to  come  across  a  case  similar 
to  his  own,  but  up  to  the  time  of  Stoliker's  visit  he 
had  not  succeeded. 

"  Hello,  Stoliker !  how's  things  ?  Got  the  cuffs 
in  your  pocket  ?  Want  to  have  another  tour  across 
country  with  me  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  came  to  warn  you.  There  will  be 
a  warrant  out  to-morrow  or  next  day,  and,  if  I  were 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         285 

you,  I  would  get  over  to  the  other  side  ;  though  you 
need  never  say  I  told  you.  Of  course,  if  they  give 
the  warrant  to  me,  I  shall  have  to  arrest  you  ;  and 
although  nothing  may  be  done  to  you,  still,  the 
country  is  in  a  state  of  excitement,  and  you  will  at 
least  be  put  to  some  inconvenience." 

"  Stoliker,"  cried  Yates,  springing  out  of  the  ham- 
mock, "  you  are  a  white  man  !  You're  a  good  follow, 
Stoliker,  and  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged.  If  you 
ever  come  to  New  York,  you  call  on  me  at  the  Argus 
office, — anybody  will  show  you  where  it  is, — and  I'll 
give  you  the  liveliest  time  you  ever  had  in  your  life. 
It  won't  cost  you  a  cent,  either." 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  the  constable.  "  Now,  if 
I  were  you,  I  would  light  out  to-morrow  at  the 
latest." 

"  I  will,"  said  Yates. 

Stoliker  disappeared  quietly  among  the  trees,  and 
Yates,  after  a  moment's  thought,  began  energetically 
to  pack  up  his  belongings.  It  was  dark  before  he 
had  finished,  and  Renmark  returned. 

"  Stilly,"  cried  the  reporter  cheerily,  "  there's  a 
warrant  out  for  my  arrest.  I  shall  have  to  go  to- 
morrow at  the  latest ! " 

"  What !  to  jail  ?  "  cried  his  horrified  friend,  his 
conscience  now  troubling  him,  as  the  parting  came, 
for  his  lack  of  kindness  to  an  old  comrade. 

"  Not  if  the  court  knows  herself.  But  to  Buffalo, 
which  is  pretty  much  the  same  thing.  Still,  thank 
goodness,  I  don't  need  to  stay  there  long.  I'll  be 
in  New  York  before  I'm  many  days  older.  I  yearn 


286        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

to  plunge  into  the  arena  once  more.  The  still, 
calm  peacefulness  of  this  whole  vacation  has  made 
me  long  for  excitement  again,  and  I'm  glad  the 
warrant  has  pushed  me  into  the  turmoil." 

"  Well,  Richard,  I'm  sorry  you  have  to  go  under 
such  conditions.  I'm  afraid  I  have  not  been  as 
companionable  a  comrade  as  you  should  have  had." 

"  Oh,  you're  all  right,  Renny.  The  trouble  with 
you  is  that  you  have  drawn  a  little  circle  around 
Toronto  University,  and  said  to  yourself:  'This  is 
the  world.'  It  isn't,  you  know.  There  is  something 
outside  of  all  that." 

"  Every  man,  doubtless,  has  his  little  circle.  Yours 
is  around  the  Argus  office." 

"  Yes,  but  there  are  special  wires  from  that  centre 
to  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  soon  there  will  be  an 
Atlantic  cable." 

"  I  do  not  hold  that  my  circle  is  as  large  as  yours; 
still,  there  is  something  outside  of  New  York, 
even." 

"  You  bet  your  life  there  is ;  and,  now  that  you 
are  in  a  more  sympathetic  frame  of  mind,  it  is  that 
I  want  to  talk  with  you  about.  Those  two  girls 
are  outside  my  little  circle,  and  I  want  to  bring  one 
of  them  within  it.  Now,  Renmark,  which  of  those 
girls  would  you  choose  if  you  were  me  ?  " 

The  professor  drew  in  his  breath  sharply,  and  was 
silent  for  a  moment.  At  last  he  said,  speaking 
slowly : 

"I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Yates,  that  you  do  not  quite  ap- 
preciate my  point  of  view.  As  you  may  think  I 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         287 

have  acted  in  an  unfriendly  manner,  I  will  try  for 
the  first  and  final  time  to  explain  it.  I  hold  that 
any  man  who  marries  a  good  woman  gets  more  than 
he  deserves,  no  matter  how  worthy  he  may  be.  I 
have  a  profound  respect  for  all  women,  and  I  think 
that  your  light  chatter  about  choosing  between  two 
is  an  insult  to  both  of  them.  I  think  either  of  them 
is  infinitely  too  good  for  you — or  for  me  either." 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  ?  Perhaps  you  think  that 
you  would  make  a  much  better  husband  than  I.  If 
that  is  the  case,  allow  me  to  say  you  are  entirely 
wrong.  If  your  wife  was  sensitive,  you  would  kill 
her  with  your  gloomy  fits.  I  wouldn't  go  off  in  the 
woods  and  sulk,  anyhow." 

"If  you  are  referring  to  me,  I  will  further  inform 
you  that  I  had  either  to  go  off  in  the  woods  or  knock 
you  down.  I  chose  the  less  of  two  evils." 

"  Think  you  could  do  it,  I  suppose  ?  Renny, 
you're  conceited.  You're  not  the  first  man  who  has 
made  such  a  mistake,  and  found  he  was  barking  up 
the  wrong  tree  when  it  was  too  late  for  anything 
but  bandages  and  arnica." 

"  I  have  tried  to  show  you  how  I  feel  regarding 
this  matter.  I  might  have  known  I  should  not  suc- 
ceed. We  will  end  the  discussion,  if  you  please." 

"  Oh,  no.  The  discussion  is  just  beginning.  Now, 
Renny,  I'll  tell  you  what  you  need.  You  need  a 
good,  sensible  wife  worse  than  any  man  I  know.  It 
is  not  yet  too  late  to  save  you,  but  it  soon  will  be. 
You  will,  before  long,  grow  a  crust  on  you  like  a 
snail,  or  a  lobster,  or  any  other  cold-blooded  animal 


288         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

that  gets  a  shell  on  itself.  Then  nothing  can  be 
done  for  you.  Now,  let  me  save  you,  Renny,  before 
it  is  too  late.  Here  is  my  proposition  :  You  choose 
one  of  those  girls  and  marry  her.  I'll  take  the  other. 
I'm  not  as  unselfish  as  I  may  seem  in  this,  for  your 
choice  will  save  me  the  worry  of  making  up  my  own 
mind.  According  to  your  talk,  either  of  the  girls  is 
too  good  for  you,  and  for  once  I  entirely  agree  with 
you.  But  let  that  pass.  Now,  which  one  is  it  to 
be?" 

"  Good  God  !  man,  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  bar- 
gain  with  you  about  my  future  wife  ?  " 

"  That's  right,  Renny.  I  like  to  hear  you  swear. 
It  shows  you  are  not  yet  the  prig  you  would  have 
folks  believe.  There's  still  hope  for  you,  professor. 
Now,  I'll  go  further  with  you.  Although  I  cannot 
make  up  my  mind  just  what  to  do  myself,  I  can  tell 
instantly  which  is  the  girl  for  you,  and  thus  we  solve 
both  problems  at  one  stroke.  You  need  a  wife  who 
will  take  you  in  hand.  You  need  one  who  will  not 
put  up  with  your  tantrums,  who  will  be  cheerful,  and 
who  will  make  a  man  of  you.  Kitty  Bartlett  is  the 
girl.  She  will  tyrannise  over  you,  just  as  her  mother 
does  over  the  old  man.  She  will  keep  house  to  the 
queen's  taste,  and  delight  in  getting  you  good  things 
to  eat.  Why,  everything  is  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff. 
That  shows  the  benefit  of  talking  over  a  thing.  You 
marry  Kitty  and  I'll  mary  Margaret.  Come,  let's 
shake  hands  over  it."  Yates  held  up  his  right  hand, 
ready  to  slap  it  down  on  the  open  palm  of  the  pro- 
fessor, but  there  was  no  response.  Yates'  hand  came 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         289 

down  to  his  side  again,  but  he  had  not  yet  lost  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  proposal.  The  more  he  thought 
of  it  the  more  fitting  it  seemed. 

"  Margaret  is  such  a  sensible,  quiet,  level-headed 
girl  that,  if  I  am  as  flippant  as  you  say,  she  will  be 
just  the  wife  for  me.  There  are  depths  in  my  char- 
acter, Renmark,  that  you  have  not  suspected." 

"  Oh,  you're  deep." 

"  I  admit  it.  Well,  a  good,  sober-minded  woman 
would  develop  the  best  that  is  in  me.  Now,  what 
do  you  say,  Renny  ?  " 

"  I  say  nothing.  I  am  going  into  the  woods  again, 
dark  as  it  is." 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Yates  with  a  sigh,  "  there's  no 
doing  anything  with  you  or  for  you.  I've  tried  my 
best ;  that  is  one  consolation.  Don't  go  away.  I'll 
let  fate  decide.  Here  goes  for  a  toss-up." 

And  Yates  drew  a  silver  half-dollar  from  his  pocket. 
"  Heads  for  Margaret ! "  he  cried.  Renmark  clinched 
his  fist,  took  a  step  forward,  then  checked  himself, 
remembering  that  this  was  his  last  night  with  the 
man  who  had  at  least  once  been  his  friend. 

Yates  merrily  spun  the  coin  in  the  air,  caught  it  in 
one  hand,  and  slapped  the  other  over  it. 

"  Now  for  the  turning  point  in  the  lives  of  two  in- 
nocent beings."  He  raised  the  covering  hand,  and 
peered  at  the  coin  in  the  gathering  gloom.  "  Heads 
it  is.  Margaret  Howard  becomes  Mrs.  Richard 
Yates.  Congratulate  me,  professor." 

Renmark  stood  motionless  as  a  statue,  an  object 
lesson  in  self-control.  Yates  set  his  hat  more  jaunt- 
'9 


290         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ily  on  his  head,  and  slipped  the  epoch-making  coin 
into  his  trousers  pocket. 

"  Good-bye,  old  man,"  he  said.  "  I'll  see  you  later, 
and  tell  you  all  the  particulars." 

Without  waiting  for  the  answer,  for  which  he 
probably  knew  there  would  have  been  little  use  in 
delaying,  Yates  walked  to  the  fence  and  sprang  over 
it,  with  one  hand  on  the  top  rail.  Renmark  stood 
still  for  some  minutes,  then,  quietly  gathering  un- 
derbrush and  sticks  large  and  small,  lighted  a  fire, 
and  sat  down  on  a  log,  with  his  head  in  his  hands. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

YATES  walked  merrily  down  the  road,  whistling 
"  Gayly  the  troubador."  Perhaps  there  is  no  mo- 
ment in  a  man's  life  when  he  relishes  the  joy  of  being 
alive  more  keenly  than  when  he  goes  to  propose  to 
a  girl  of  whose  favourable  answer  he  is  reasonably 
sure — unless  it  be  the  moment  he  walks  away  an  ac- 
cepted lover.  There  is  a  magic  about  a  June  night, 
with  its  soft,  velvety  darkness  and  its  sweet,  mild  air 
laden  with  the  perfumes  of  wood  and  field.  The  en- 
chantment of  the  hour  threw  its  spell  over  the  young 
man,  and  he  resolved  to  live  a  better  life,  and  be 
worthy  of  the  girl  he  had  chosen,  or,  rather,  that 
fate  had  chosen  for  him.  He  paused  a  moment, 
leaning  over  the  fence  near  the  Howard  homestead, 
for  he  had  not  yet  settled  in  his  own  mind  the  de- 
tails of  the  meeting.  He  would  not  go  in,  for  in  that 
case  he  knew  he  would  have  to  talk,  perhaps  for 
hours,  with  everyone  but  the  person  he  wished  to 
meet.  If  he  announced  himself  and  asked  to  see 
Margaret  alone,  his  doing  so  would  embarrass  her  at 
the  very  beginning.  Yates  was  naturally  too  much 
of  a  diplomatist  to  begin  awkwardly.  As  he  stood 
there,  wishing  chance  would  bring  her  out  of  the 

291 


292         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

house,  there  appeared  a  light  in  the  door-window  of 
the  room  where  he  knew  the  convalescent  boy  lay. 
Margaret's  shadow  formed  a  silhouette  on  the  blind. 
Yates  caught  up  a  handful  of  sand,  and  flung  it 
lightly  against  the  pane.  Its  soft  patter  evidently 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  girl,  for,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  the  window  opened  cautiously,  then 
Margaret  stepped  quickly  out  and  closed  it,  quietly 
standing  there. 

"  Margaret,"  whispered  Yates  hardly  above  his 
breath. 

The  girl  advanced  towards  the  fence. 

"  Is  that  you  f  "  she  whispered  in  return,  with  an 
accent  on  the  last  word  that  thrilled  her  listener. 
The  accent  told  plainly  as  speech  that  the  word  rep- 
resented the  one  man  on  earth  to  her. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Yates,  springing  over  the  fence 
and  approaching  her. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Margaret,  starting  back,  then  check- 
ing herself  with  a  catch  in  her  voice,  "You — you 
startled  me— Mr.  Yates." 

"  Not  Mr.  Yates  any  more,  Margaret,  but  Dick. 
Margaret,  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone.  You  know 
why  I  have  come."  He  tried  to  grasp  both  her 
hands,  but  she  put  them  resolutely  behind  her,  seem- 
ingly wishing  to  retreat,  yet  standing  her  ground. 

"  Margaret,  you  must  have  seen  long  ago  how  it 
is  with  me.  I  love  you,  Margaret,  loyally  and  truly. 
It  seems  as  if  I  had  loved  you  all  my  life.  I  cer- 
tainly have  since  the  first  day  I  saw  you." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Yates,  you  must  not  talk  to  me  like  this." 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         293 

"  My  darling,  how  else  can  I  talk  to  you  ?  It  can- 
not be  a  surprise  to  you,  Margaret.  You  must  have 
known  it  long  ago." 

"  I  did  not,  indeed  I  did  not — if  you  really  mean 
it." 

"  Mean  it  ?  I  never  meant  anything  as  I  mean 
this.  It  is  everything  to  me,  and  nothing  else  is  any- 
thing. I  have  knocked  about  the  world  a  good  deal, 
I  admit,  but  I  never  was  in  love  before — never  knew 
what  love  was  until  I  met  you.  I  tell  you  that " 

"  Please,  please,  Mr.  Yates,  do  not  say  anything 
more.  If  it  is  really  true,  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
sorry  I  am.  I  hope  nothing  I  have  said  or  done  has 

made  you  believe  that — that Oh,  I  do  not  know 

what  to  say !  I  never  thought  you  could  be  in 
earnest  about  anything." 

"  You  surely  cannot  have  so  misjudged  me,  Mar- 
garet. Others  have,  but  I  did  not  expect  it  of  you. 
You  are  far  and  away  better  than  I  am.  No  one 
knows  that  so  well  as  I.  I  do  not  pretend  to  be 
worthy  of  you,  but  I  will  be  a  devoted  husband  to 
you.  Any  man  who  gets  the  love  of  a  good  woman," 
continued  Yates  earnestly,  plagiarising  Renmark, 
"  gets  more  than  he  deserves  ;  but  surely  such  love 
as  mine  is  not  given  merely  to  be  scornfully  trampled 
underfoot." 

"  I  do  not  treat  your — you  scornfully.  I  am  only 
sorry  if  what  you  say  is  true." 

"  Why  do  you  say  if  it  is  true  ?  Don't  you  know 
it  is  true?" 

"  Then  I  am  very  sorry — very,  very  sorry,  and  I 


294         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

hope  it  is  through  no  fault  of  mine.  But  you  will 
soon  forget  me.  When  you  return  to  New 
York " 

"  Margaret,"  said  the  young  man  bitterly,  "  I  shall 
never  forget  you.  Think  what  you  are  doing  before 
it  is  too  late.  Think  how  much  this  means  to  me. 
If  you  finally  refuse  me  you  will  wreck  my  life.  I 
am  the  sort  of  man  that  a  woman  can  make  or  mar. 
Do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  ruin  the  life  of  the  man  who 
loves  you." 

"  I  am  not  a  missionary,"  cried  Margaret  with  sud- 
den anger.  "  If  your  life  is  to  be  wrecked,  it  will  be 
through  your  own  foolishness,  and  not  from  any  act 
of  mine.  I  think  it  cowardly  of  you  to  say  that  I 
am  to  be  held  responsible.  I  have  no  wish  to  in- 
fluence your  future  one  way  or  another." 

"  Not  for  good,  Margaret  ? "  asked  Yates  with 
tender  reproach. 

"  No.  A  man  whose  good  or  bad  conduct  depends 
on  any  one  but  himself  is  not  my  ideal  of  a  man." 

"  Tell  me  what  your  ideal  is,  so  that  I  may  try  to 
attain  it." 

Margaret  was  silent. 

"  You  think  it  will  be  useless  for  me  to  try  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  yes." 

"  Margaret,  I  want  to  ask  you  one  more  question 
I  have  no  right  to,  but  I  beg  you  to  answer  me. 
Are  you  in  love  with  anyone  else  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  cried  Margaret  hotly.  "  How  dare  you 
ask  me  such  a  question?  " 

"  Qh,  it  is  not  a  crime — that  is,  being  in  love  with 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         295 

someone  else  is  not.  I'll  tell  you  why  I  dare  ask. 
I  swear,  by  all  the  gods,  that  I  shall  win  you — if  not 
this  year,  then  next ;  and  if  not  next,  then  the  year 
after.  I  was  a  coward  to  talk  as  I  did ;  but  I  love  you 
more  now  than  I  did  even  then.  All  I  want  to  know 
is  that  you  are  not  in  love  with  another  man." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  cruel  in  persisting  as  you 
do,  when  you  have  had  your  answer.  I  say  no. 
Never  !  never  !  never  ! — this  year  nor  any  other  year. 
Is  not  that  enough  ?  " 

"  Not  for  me.  A  woman's  '  no '  may  ultimately 
mean  '  yes.'  " 

"  That  is  true,  Mr.  Yates,"  replied  Margaret,  draw- 
ing herself  up  as  one  who  makes  a  final  plunge.  "  You 
remember  the  question  you  asked  me  just  now? — 
whether  I  cared  for  anyone  else  ?  I  said  '  no.'  That 
'  no  '  meant  '  yes.'  " 

He  was  standing  between  her  and  the  window,  so 
she  could  not  escape  by  the  way  she  came.  He  saw 
she  meditated  flight,  and  made  as  though  he  would 
intercept  her,  but  she  was  too  quick  for  him.  She  ran 
around  the  house,  and  he  heard  a  door  open  and  shut. 

He  knew  he  was  defeated.  Dejectedly  he  turned  to 
the  fence,  climbing  slowly  over  where  he  had  leaped 
so  lightly  a  few  minutes  before,  and  walked  down  the 
road,  cursing  his  fate.  Although  he  admitted  he 
was  a  coward  for  talking  to  her  as  he  had  done  about 
his  wrecked  life,  yet  he  knew  now  that  every  word 
he  had  spoken  was  true.  What  did  the  future  hold 
out  to  him  ?  Not  even  the  incentive  to  live.  He 
found  himself  walking  towards  the  tent,  but,  not 


296         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

wishing  to  meet  Renmark  in  his  present  frame  of 
mind,  he  turned  and  came  out  on  the  Ridge  Road. 
He  was  tired  and  broken,  and  resolved  to  stay  in 
camp  until  they  arrested  him.  Then  perhaps  she 
might  have  some  pity  on  him.  Who  was  the  other 
man  she  loved  ?  or  had  she  merely  said  that  to  give 
finality  to  her  refusal  ?  In  his  present  mood  he  pic- 
tured the  worst,  and  imagined  her  the  wife  of  some 
neighbouring  farmer — perhaps  even  of  Stoliker. 
These  country  girls,  he  said  to  himself,  never  believed 
a  man  was  worth  looking  at  unless  he  owned  a  farm. 
He  would  save  his  money,  and  buy  up  the  whole 
neighbourhood ;  then  she  would  realise  what  she  had 
missed.  He  climbed  up  on  the  fence  beside  the  road, 
and  sat  on  the  top  rail,  with  his  heels  resting  on  the 
lower  one,  so  that  he  might  enjoy  his  misery  without 
the  fatigue  of  walking.  His  vivid  imagination  pic- 
tured himself  as  the  owner  in  a  few  years'  time  of  a 
large  section  of  that  part  of  the  country,  with  mort- 
gages on  a  good  deal  of  the  remainder,  including  the 
farm  owned  by  Margaret's  husband.  He  saw  her 
now,  a  farmer's  faded  wife,  coming  to  him  and  beg- 
ging for  further  time  in  which  to  pay  the  seven  per 
cent.  due.  He  knew  he  would  act  magnanimously  on 
such  an  occasion,  and  grandly  give  her  husband  all 
the  time  he  required.  Perhaps  then  she  would  recog- 
nise the  mistake  she  had  made  in  refusing  him.  Or 
perhaps  fame,  rather  than  riches,  would  be  his  line. 
His  name  would  ring  throughout  the  land.  He  might 
become  a  great  politician,  and  bankrupt  Canada  with 
a  rigid  tariff  law.  The  unfairness  of  making  the 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         297 

whole  innocent  people  suffer  for  the  inconsiderate 
act  of  one  of  them  did  not  occur  to  him  at  the  mo- 
ment, for  he  was  humiliated  and  hurt.  There  is  no 
bitterness  like  that  which  assails  the  man  who  has 
been  rejected  by  the  girl  he  adores — while  it  lasts. 
His  eye  wandered  toward  the  black  mass  of  the 
Howard  house.  It  was  as  dark  as  his  thoughts.  He 
turned  his  head  slowly  round,  and,  like  a  bright  star 
of  hope,  there  glimmered  up  the  road  a  flickering 
light  from  the  Bartletts'  parlor  window.  Although 
time  had  stopped  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  he  was 
convinced  it  could  not  be  very  late,  or  the  Bartletts 
would  have  gone  to  bed.  It  is  always  difficult  to  re- 
alise that  the  greatest  of  catastrophes  are  generally 
over  in  a  few  minutes.  It  seemed  an  age  since  he 
walked  so  hopefully  away  from  the  tent.  As  he 
looked  at  the  light  the  thought  struck  him  that  per- 
haps Kitty  was  alone  in  the  parlour.  She  at  least 
would  not  have  treated  him  so  badly  as  the  other 
girl ;  and — and  she  was  pretty,  too,  come  to  think  of 
it.  He  always  did  like  a  blonde  better  than  a 
brunette. 

A  fence  rail  is  not  a  comfortable  seat.  It  is  used 
in  some  parts  of  the  country  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
impress  the  sitter  with  the  fact  of  its  extreme  dis- 
comfort, and  as  a  gentle  hint  that  his  presence  is  not 
wanted  in  that  immediate  neighbourhood.  Yates 
recollected  this,  with  a  smile,  as  he  slid  off  and 
stumbled  into  the  ditch  by  the  side  of  the  road.  His 
mind  had  been  so  preoccupied  that  he  had  forgotten 
about  the  ditch.  As  he  walked  along  the  road  to- 


298        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

ward  the  star  that  guided  him,  he  remembered  he 
had  recklessly  offered  the  charming  Kitty  to  the 
callous  professor.  After  all,  no  one  knew  about  the 
episode  of  a  short  time  before  except  himself  and 
Margaret,  and  he  felt  convinced  she  was  not  a  girl 
to  boast  of  her  conquests.  Anyhow,  it  didn't  matter. 
A  man  is  surely  master  of  himself. 

As  he  neared  the  window  he  looked  in.  People 
are  not  particular  about  lowering  the  blinds  in  the 
country.  He  was  rather  disappointed  to  see  Mrs. 
Bartlett  sitting  there  knitting,  like  the  industrious 
woman  she  was.  Still  it  was  consoling  to  note  that 
none  of  the  men-folks  were  present,  and  that  Kitty, 
with  her  fluffy  hair  half  concealing  her  face,  sat  read- 
ing a  book  he  had  lent  to  her.  He  rapped  at  the 
door,  and  it  was  opened  by  Mrs.  Bartlett,  with  some 
surprise. 

"  For  the  land's  sake !  is  that  you,  Mr.  Yates?  " 

"  It  is." 

"  Come  right  in.  Why,  what's  the  matter  with 
you  ?  You  look  as  if  you  had  lost  your  best  friend. 
Ah,  I  see  how  it  is," — Yates  started, — "you  have 
run  out  of  provisions,  and  are  very  likely  as  hungry 
as  a  bear." 

"  You've  hit  it  first  time,  Mrs.  Bartlett.  I  dropped 
around  to  see  if  I  could  borrow  a  loaf  of  bread.  We 
don't  bake  till  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Bartlett  laughed. 

"  Nice  baking  you  would  do  if  you  tried  it.  I'll 
get  you  a  loaf  in  a  minute.  Are  you  sure  one  is 
enough  ?  " 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS        299 

"  Quite  enough,  thank  you." 

The  good  woman  bustled  out  to  the  other  room 
for  the  loaf,  and  Yates  made  good  use  of  her  tem- 
porary absence. 

"  Kitty,"  he  whispered,  "  I  want  to  see  you  alone 
for  a  few  minutes.  I'll  wait  for  you  at  the  gate. 
Can  you  slip  out  ?  " 

Kitty  blushed  very  red  and  nodded. 

"  They  have  a  warrant  out  for  my  arrest,  and  I'm 
off  to-morrow  before  they  can  serve  it.  But  I  couldn't 
go  without  seeing  you.  You'll  come,  sure  ?" 

Again  Kitty  nodded,  after  looking  up  at  him  in 
alarm  when  he  spoke  of  the  warrant.  Before  any- 
thing further  could  be  said  Mrs.  Bartlett  came  in, 
and  Kitty  was  absorbed  in  her  book. 

"  Won't  you  have  something  to  eat  now  before 
you  go  back  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Bartlett.  You  see,  the 
professor  is  waiting  for  me." 

"  Let  him  wait,  if  he  didn't  have  sense  enough  to 
come." 

"  He  didn't.     I  offered  him  the  chance." 

"  It  won't  take  us  a  moment  to  set  the  table.  It 
is  not  the  least  trouble." 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Bartlett,  you  are  very  kind.  I  am 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  hungry  now.  I  am  merely 
taking  some  thought  of  the  morrow.  No ;  I  must 
be  going,  and  thank  you  very  much." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett,  seeing  him  to  the 
door,  "  if  there's  anything  you  want,  come  to  me, 
and  I  will  let  you  have  it  if  it's  in  the  house." 


300        IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  You  are  too  good  to  me,"  said  the  young  man 
with  genuine  feeling,  "  and  I  don't  deserve  it ;  but  I 
may  remind  you  of  your  promise — to-morrow." 

"  See  that  you  do,"  she  answered.     "  Good-night." 

Yates  waited  at  the  gate,  placing  the  loaf  on  the 
post,  where  he  forgot  it,  much  to  the  astonishment  of 
the  donor  in  the  morning.  He  did  not  have  to  wait 
long,  for  Kitty  came  around  the  house  somewhat 
shrinkingly,  as  one  who  was  doing  the  most  wicked 
thing  that  had  been  done  since  the  world  began. 
Yates  hastened  to  meet  her,  clasping  one  of  her  un- 
resisting hands  in  his. 

"  I  must  be  off  to-morrow,"  he  began. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  answered  Kitty  in  a  whisper. 

"  Ah,  Kitty,  you  are  not  half  so  sorry  as  I  am. 
But  I  intend  to  come  back,  if  you  will  let  me.  Kitty, 
you  remember  that  talk  we  had  in  the  kitchen,  when 
we — when  there  was  an  interruption,  and  when  I  had 
to  go  away  with  our  friend  Stoliker  ?  " 

Kitty  indicated  that  she  remembered  it. 

"  Well,  of  course  you  know  what  I  wanted  to  say 
to  you.  Of  course  you  know  what  I  want  to  say  to 
you  now.'' 

It  seemed,  however,  that  in  this  he  was  mistaken, 
for  Kitty  had  not  the  slightest  idea,  and  wanted  to 
go  into  the  house,  for  it  was  late,  and  her  mother 
would  miss  her. 

"  Kitty,  you  darling  little  humbug,  you  know  that 
I  love  you.  You  must  know  that  I  have  loved  you 
ever  since  the  first  day  I  saw  you,  when  you  laughed 
at  me.  Kitty,  I  want  you  to  marry  me  and  make 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS          301 

something  of  me,  if  that  is  possible.  I  am  a  worth- 
less fellow,  not  half  good  enough  for  a  little  pet  like 
you ;  but,  Kitty,  if  you  will  only  say  '  yes,'  I  will 
try,  and  try  hard,  to  be  a  better  man  than  I  have 
ever  been  before." 

Kitty  did  not  say  "  yes,''  but  she  placed  her  dis- 
engaged hand,  warm  and  soft,  upon  his,  and  Yates 
was  not  the  man  to  have  any  hesitation  about  what 
to  do  next.  To  practical  people  it  may  seem  an 
astonishing  thing  that,  the  object  of  the  interview 
being  happily  accomplished,  there  should  be  any 
need  of  prolonging  it ;  yet  the  two  lingered  there, 
and  he  told  her  much  of  his  past  life,  and  of  how 
lonely  and  sordid  it  had  been  because  he  had  no  one 
to  care  for  him — at  which  her  pretty  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  She  felt  proud  and  happy  to  think  she  had 
won  the  first  great  love  of  a  talented  man's  life,  and 
hoped  she  would  make  him  happy,  and  in  a  measure 
atone  for  the  emptiness  of  the  existence  that  had 
gone  before.  She  prayed  that  he  might  always  be  as 
fond  of  her  as  he  was  then,  and  resolved  to  be  worthy 
of  him  if  she  could. 

Strange  to  say,  her  wishes  have  been  amply  ful- 
filled, and  few  wives  are  as  happy  or  as  proud  of  their 
husbands  as  Kitty  Yates.  The  one  woman  who  might 
have  put  the  drop  of  bitterness  in  her  cup  of  life 
merely  kissed  her  tenderly  when  Kitty  told  her  of  the 
intense  joy  that  had  come  to  her,  and  said  she  was 
sure  they  would  be  happy ;  and  thus  for  the  second 
time  Margaret  told  the  thing  that  was  not,  but  for 
once  Margaret  was  wrong  in  her  fears. 


302         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

Yates  walked  to  the  tent  a  glorified  man,  leaving 
his  loaf  on  the  gatepost  behind  him.  Few  realise 
that  it  is  quite  as  pleasant  to  be  loved  as  to  love. 
The  verb  "  to  love  "  has  many  conjugations.  The 
earth  he  trod  was  like  no  other  ground  he  had  ever 
walked  upon.  The  magic  of  the  June  night  was 
never  so  enchanting  before.  He  strode  along  with 
his  head  and  his  thoughts  in  the  clouds,  and  the 
Providence  that  cares  for  the  intoxicated  looked 
after  him,  and  saw  that  the  accepted  lover  came  to 
no  harm.  He  leaped  the  fence  without  even  putting 
his  hand  to  it,  and  then  was  brought  to  earth  again 
by  the  picture  of  a  man  sitting  with  his  head  in  his 
hands  beside  a  dying  fire. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

YATES  stood  for  a  moment  regarding  the  dejected 
attitude  of  his  friend. 

"  Hello,  old  man !  "  he  cried,  "  you  have  the 
most  '  hark-from-the-tombs  '  appearance  I  ever  saw. 
What's  the  matter?" 

Renmark  looked  up. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it's  I.     Been  expecting  anybody  else  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  been  waiting  for  you,  and  thinking 
of  a  variety  of  things." 

"  You  look  it.  Well,  Renny,  congratulate  me,  my 
boy.  She's  mine,  and  I'm  hers — which  are  two  ways 
of  stating  the  same  delightful  fact.  I'm  up  in  a  bal- 
loon, Renny.  I'm  engaged  to  the  prettiest,  sweetest, 
and  most  delightful  girl  there  is  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific.  What  d'ye  think  of  that  ?  Say,  Ren- 
mark,  there's  nothing  on  earth  like  it.  You  ought 
to  reform  and  go  in  for  being  in  love.  It  would 
make  a  man  of  you.  Champagne  isn't  to  be  com- 
pared to  it.  Get  up  here  and  dance,  and  don't  sit 
there  like  a  bear  nursing  a  sore  paw.  Do  you  com- 
prehend that  I  am  to  be  married  to  the  darlingest 
girl  that  lives  ?  " 

"  God  help  her!" 

M 


304         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

"  That's  what  I  say.  Every  day  of  her  life,  bless 
her !  But  I  don't  say  it  quite  in  that  tone,  Ren- 
mark.  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  One  would 
think  you  were  in  love  with  the  girl  yourself,  if  such 
a  thing  were  possible." 

"  Why  is  it  not  possible  ?  " 

"  If  that  is  a  conundrum,  I  can  answer  it  the  first 
time.  Because  you  are  a  fossil.  You  are  too  good, 
Renny ;  therefore  dull  and  uninteresting.  Now, 
there  is  nothing  a  woman  likes  so  much  as  to  re- 
claim a  man.  It  always  annoys  a  woman  to  know 
that  the  man  she  is  interested  in  has  a  past  with 
which  she  has  had  nothing  to  do.  If  he  is  wicked 
and  she  can  sort  of  make  him  over,  like  an  old  dress, 
she  revels  in  the  process.  She  flatters  herself  she 
makes  a  new  man  of  him,  and  thinks  she  owns  that 
new  man  by  right  of  manufacture.  We  owe  it  to 
the  sex,  Renny,  to  give  'em  a  chance  at  reforming 
us.  I  have  known  men  who  hated  tobacco  take  to 
smoking  merely  to  give  it  up  joyfully  for  the  sake  of 
the  women  they  loved.  Now,  if  a  man  is  perfect  to 
begin  with,  what  is  a  dear,  ministering  angel  of  a 
woman  to  do  with  him  ?  Manifestly  nothing.  The 
trouble  with  you,  Renny.  is  that  you  are  too  evidently 
ruled  by  a  good  and  well-trained  conscience,  and 
naturally  all  women  you  meet  intuitively  see  this, 
and  have  no  use  for  you.  A  little  wickedness  would 
be  the  making  of  you." 

"You  think,  then,  that  if  a  man's  impulse  is  to  do 
what  his  conscience  tells  him  is  wrong,  he  should 
follow  his  impulse,  and  not  his  conscience  ?  " 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         305 

"  You  state  the  case  with  unnecessary  seriousness. 
I  believe  that  an  occasional  blow-out  is  good  for  a 
man.  But  if  you  ever  have  an  impulse  of  that  kind, 
I  think  you  should  give  way  to  it  for  once,  just  to 
see  how  it  feels.  A  man  who  is  too  good  gets  con- 
ceited about  himself." 

"  I  half  believe  you  are  right,  Mr.  Yates,"  said  the 
professor,  rising.  "  I  will  act  on  your  advice,  and, 
as  you  put  it,  see  how  it  feels.  My  conscience  tells 
me  that  I  should  congratulate  you,  and  wish  you 
a  long  and  happy  life  with  the  girl  you  have — I 
won't  say  chosen,  but  tossed  up  for.  The  natural 
man  in  me,  on  the  other  hand,  urges  me  to  break 
every  bone  in  your  worthless  body.  Throw  off  your 
coat,  Yates." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Renmark,  you're  crazy." 

"  Perhaps  so.  Be  all  the  more  on  your  guard,  if 
you  believe  it.  A  lunatic  is  sometimes  dangerous." 

"  Oh,  go  away.  You're  dreaming.  Your're  talk- 
ing in  your  sleep.  What!  Fight?  To-night? 
Nonsense !  " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  strike  you  before  you  are 
ready?" 

"  No,  Renny,  no.  My  wants  are  always  modest. 
I  don't  wish  to  fight  at  all,  especially  to-night.  I'm 
a  reformed  man,  I  tell  you.  I  have  no  desire  for  a 
black  eye  before  bidding  good-bye  to  my  best  girl 
to-morrow." 

"  Then  stop  talking,  if  you  can,  and  defend  your- 
self." 

"  It*s  impossible  to  fight  here  in  the  dark.     Don't 
20 


306         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

flatter  yourself  for  a  moment  that  I  am  afraid.  You 
just  spar  with  yourself  and  get  limbered  up,  while  I 
put  some  wood  on  the  fire.  This  is  too  ridiculous." 

Yates  gathered  some  fuel,  and  managed  to  coax 
the  dying  embers  into  a  blaze. 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  that's  better.  Now,  let  me 
have  a  look  at  you.  In  the  name  of  wonder,  Renny, 
what  do  you  want  to  fight  me  for  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  refuse  to  give  my  reason." 

"  Then  I  refuse  to  fight.  I'll  run,  and  I  can  beat 
you  in  a  foot  race  any  day  in  the  week.  Why, 
you're  worse  than  her  father.  He  at  least  let  me 
know  why  he  fought  me." 

"  Whose  father  ?  " 

"  Kitty's  father,  of  course — my  future  father-in- 
law.  And  that's  another  ordeal  ahead  of  me.  I 
haven't  spoken  to  the  old  man  yet,  and  I  need  all 
my  fighting  grit  for  that." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Isn't  my  language  plain  ?     It  usually  is." 

"  To  whom  are  you  engaged  ?  As  I  understand 
your  talk,  it  is  to  Miss  Bartlett.  Am  I  right  ?  " 

"  Right  as  rain,  Renny.  This  fire  is  dying  down 
again.  Say,  can't  we  postpone  our  fracas  until  day- 
light ?  I  don't  want  to  gather  any  more  wood.  Be- 
sides, one  of  us  is  sure  to  be  knocked  into  the  fire, 
and  thus  ruin  whatever  is  left  of  our  clothes.  What 
do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Say  ?     I  say  I  am  an  idiot." 

"  Hello  !  reason  is  returning,  Renny.  I  perfectly 
agree  with  you." 


INTHE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         307 

"  Thank  you.  Then  you  did  not  propose  to  Mar 
—to  Miss  Howard  ?  " 

"  Now,  you  touch  upon  a  sore  spot,  Renmark, 
that  I  am  trying  to  forget.  You  remember  the  un- 
fortunate toss-up  ;  in  fact,  I  think  you  referred  to  it 
a  moment  ago,  and  you  were  justly  indignant  about 
it  at  the  time.  Well,  I  don't  care  to  talk  much  about 
the  sequel ;  but,  as  you  know  the  beginning,  you 
will  have  to  know  the  end,  because  I  want  to  wring 
a  sacred  promise  from  you.  You  are  never  to  men- 
tion this  episode  of  the  toss-up,  or  of  my  confession, 
to  any  living  soul.  The  telling  of  it  might  do  harm, 
and  it  couldn't  possibly  do  any  good.  Will  you 
promise  ?" 

"  Certainly.  But  do  not  tell  me  unless  you  wish 
to." 

"  I  don't  exactly  yearn  to  talk  about  it,  but  it  is 
better  you  should  understand  how  the  land  lies,  so 
you  won't  make  any  mistake.  Not  on  my  account, 
you  know,  but  I  would  not  like  it  to  come  to  Kitty's 
ears.  Yes,  I  proposed  to  Margaret — first.  She 
wouldn't  look  at  me.  Can  you  credit  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  now  that  you  mention  it,  I " 

"  Exactly.  I  see  you  can  credit  it.  Well,  I 
couldn't  at  first ;  but  Margaret  knows  her  own  mind, 
there's  no  question  about  that.  Say  !  she's  in  love 
with  some  other  fellow.  I  found  out  that  much." 

"  You  asked  her,  I  presume." 

"  Well,  it's  my  profession  to  find  out  things  ;  and, 
naturally,  if  I  do  that  for  my  paper,  it  is  not  likely 
I  am  going  to  be  behindhand  when  it  comes  to  my 


308         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

self.  She  denied  it  at  first,  but  admitted  it  after- 
ward, and  then  bolted." 

"  You  must  have  used  great  tact  and  delicacy." 

"  See  here,  Renmark;  I'm  not  going  to  stand  any 
of  your  sneering.  I  told  you  this  was  a  sore  subject 
with  me.  I'm  not  telling  you  because  I  like  to,  but 
because  I  have  to.  Don't  put  me  in  fighting  humour, 
Mr.  Renmark.  If  /talk  fight,  I  won't  begin  for  no 
reason  and  then  back  out  for  no  reason.  I'll  go  on." 

"  I'll  be  discreet,  and  beg  to  take  back  all  I  said. 
What  else  ?  " 

"  Nothing  else.  Isn't  that  enough  ?  It  was  more 
than  enough  for  me — at  the  time.  I  tell  you,  Ren- 
mark, I  spent  a  pretty  bad  half-hour  sitting  on  the 
fence  and  thinking  about  it." 

"  So  long  as  that  ?  " 

Yates  rose  from  the  fire  indignantly. 

"  I  take  that  back,  too,"  cried  the  professor  hastily. 
"  I  didn't  mean  it." 

"  It  strikes  me  you've  become  awfully  funny  all 
of  a  sudden.  Don't  you  think  it's  about  time  we 
took  to  our  bunks?  It's  late." 

Renmark  agreed  with  him,  but  did  not  turn  in. 
He  walked  to  the  friendly  fence,  laid  his  arms  along 
the  top  rail,  and  gazeo  at  the  friendly  stars.  He  had 
not  noticed  before  how  lovely  the  night  was  with  its 
impressive  stillness,  as  if  the  world  had  stopped,  as 
a  steamer  stops  in  mid-ocean.  After  quieting  his 
troubled  spirit  with  the  restful  stars  he  climbed  the 
fence  and  walked  down  the  road,  taking  little  heed 
of  the  direction.  The  still  night  was  a  soothing 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         309 

companion.  He  came  at  last  to  a  sleeping  village 
of  wooden  houses,  and  through  the  centre  of  the 
town  ran  a  single  line  of  rails,  an  iron  link  connect- 
ing the  unknown  hamlet  with  all  civilisation.  A 
red  and  a  green  light  glimmered  down  the  line,  giv- 
ing the  only  indication  that  a  train  ever  came  that 
way.  As  he  went  a  mile  or  two  farther  the  cool 
breath  of  the  great  lake  made  itself  felt,  and  after 
crossing  a  field  he  suddenly  came  upon  the  water, 
finding  all  further  progress  in  that  direction  barred. 
Huge  sand  dunes  formed  the  shore,  covered  with 
sighing  pines.  At  the  foot  of  the  dunes  stretched 
a  broad  beach  of  firm  sand,  dimly  visible  in  contrast 
with  the  darker  water ;  and  at  long  intervals  fell  the 
light  ripple  of  the  languid  summer  waves,  running 
up  the  beach  with  a  half-asleep  whisper,  that  became 
softer  and  softer  until  it  was  merged  in  the  silence 
beyond.  Far  out  on  the  dark  waters  a  point  of 
light,  like  a  floating  star,  showed  where  a  steamer 
was  slowly  making  her  way ;  and  so  still  was  the 
night  that  he  felt  rather  than  heard  her  pulsating 
engines.  It  was  the  only  sign  of  life  visible  from 
that  enchanted  bay — the  bay  of  the  silver  strand. 
Renmark  threw  himself  down  on  the  soft  sand  at 
the  foot  of  a  dune.  The  point  of  light  gradually 
worked  its  way  to  the  west,  following,  doubtless  un- 
consciously, the  star  of  empire,  and  disappeared 
round  the  headland,  taking  with  it  a  certain  vague 
sense  of  companionship.  But  the  world  is  very 
small,  and  a  man  is  never  quite  as  much  alone  as  he 
thinks  he  is.  Renmark  heard  the  low  hoot  of  an 


3io         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

owl  among  the  trees,  which  cry  he  was  astonished 
to  find  answered  from  the  water.  He  sat  up  and 
listened.  Presently  there  grated  on  the  sand  the 
keel  of  a  boat,  and  some  one  stepped  ashore.  From 
the  woods  there  emerged  the  shadowy  forms  of 
three  men.  Nothing  was  said,  but  they  got  silently 
into  the  boat,  which  might  have  been  Charon's  craft 
for  all  he  could  see  of  it.  The  rattle  of  the  row 
locks  and  the  plash  of  oars  followed,  while  a  voice 
cautioned  the  rowers  to  make  less  noise.  It  was 
evident  that  some  belated  fugitives  were  eluding  the 
authorities  of  both  countries.  Renmark  thought, 
with  a  smile,  that  if  Yates  were  in  his  place  he 
would  at  least  give  them  a  fright.  A  sharp  com- 
mand to  an  imaginary  company  to  load  and  fire 
would  travel  far  through  such  a  night,  and  would 
give  the  rowers  a  few  moments  of  great  discomfort. 
Renmark,  however,  did  not  shout,  but  treated  the 
episode  as  part  of  the  mystical  dream,  and  lay  down 
on  the  sand  again.  He  noticed  that  the  water*  in 
the  east  seemed  to  feel  the  approach  of  morning 
even  before  the  sky.  Gradually  the  day  dawned,  a 
slowly  lightening  grey  at  first,  until  the  coming  sun 
spattered  a  filmy  cloud  with  gold  and  crimson.  Ren- 
mark watched  the  glory  of  the  sunrise,  took  one  lin- 
gering look  at  the  curved  beauty  of  the  bay  shore, 
shook  the  sand  from  his  clothing,  and  started  back 
for  the  village  and  the  camp  beyond. 

The  village  was  astir  when  he  reached  it.  He  was 
surprised  to  see  Stoliker  on  horseback  in  front  of 
one  of  the  taverns.  Two  assistants  were  with  him, 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         311 

also  seated  on  horses.  The  constable  seemed  dis- 
turbed by  the  sight  of  Renmark,  but  he  was  there  to 
do  his  duty. 

"  Hello ! "  he  cried,  "  you're  up  early.  I  have  a 
warrant  for  the  arrest  of  your  friend  :  I  suppose  you 
won't  tell  me  where  he  is  ?  " 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  give  any  information 
that  will  get  a  friend  into  trouble,  do  you?  espe- 
cially as  he  has  done  nothing." 

"  That's  as  may  turn  out  before  a  jury,"  said  one 
of  the  assistants  gravely. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Stoliker,  winking  quietly  at  the 
professor.  "  That  is  for  judge  and  jury  to  deter- 
mine— not  you." 

"  Well,"  said  Renmark,  "  I  shall  not  inform 
against  anyone,  unless  I  am  compelled  to  do  so,  but 
I  may  save  you  some  trouble  by  telling  where  I 
have  been  and  what  I  have  seen.  I  am  on  my  way 
back  from  the  lake.  If  you  go  down  there,  you  will 
still  see  the  mark  of  a  boat's  keel  on  the  sand,  and 
probably  footprints.  A  boat  came  over  from  the 
other  shore  in  the  night,  and  a  man  got  on  board. 
I  don't  say  who  the  man  was,  and  I  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  matter  in  any  way  except  as  a  spectator. 
That  is  all  the  information  I  have  to  give." 

Stoliker  turned  to  his  assistants  and  nodded. 
"  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  "  he  asked.  "  We  were  right 
on  his  track." 

"You  said  the  railroad,"  grumbled  the  man  who 
had  spoken  before. 

"  Well,  we  were  within  two  miles  of  him.     Let  us 


3i2         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

go  down  to  the  lake  and  see  the  traces.  Then  we 
can  return  the  warrant." 

Renmark  found  Yates  still  asleep  in  the  tent.  He 
prepared  breakfast  without  disturbing  him.  When 
the  meal  was  ready,  he  roused  the  reporter  and  told 
him  of  his  meeting  with  Stoliker,  advising  him  to 
get  back  to  New  York  without  delay. 

Yates  yawned  sleepily. 

" Yes,"  he  said,  "I've  been  dreaming  it  all  out. 
I'll  get  father-in-law  to  tote  me  out  to  Fort  Erie  to- 
night." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  be  safe  to  put  it  off  so  long  ?  " 

"  Safer  than  trying  to  get  away  during  the  day. 
After  breakfast  I'm  going  down  to  the  Bartlett 
homestead.  Must  have  a  chat  with  the  old  folks, 
you  know.  I'll  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  making 
up  for  that  interview  by  talking  with  Kitty.  Stol- 
iker will  never  search  for  me  there,  and  now  that  he 
thinks  I'm  gone,  he  will  likely  make  a  visit  to  the 
tent.  Stoliker  is  a  good  fellow,  but  his  strong  point 
is  duty,  you  know;  and  if  he's  certain  I'm  gone, 
he'll  give  his  country  the  worth  of  its  money  by 
searching.  I  won't  be  back  for  dinner,  so  you  can 
put  in  your  time  reading  my  Dime  Novels.  I  make 
no  reflections  on  your  cooking,  Renny,  now  that  the 
vacation  is  over;  but  I  have  my  preferences,  and 
they  incline  toward  a  final  meal  with  the  Bartletts. 
If  I  were  you,  I'd  have  a  nap.  You  look  tired  out." 

"  I  am,"  said  the  professor. 

Renmark  intended  to  lie  down  for  a  few  moments 
until  Yates  was  clear  of  the  camp,  after  which  he  de- 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         313 

termined  to  pay  a  visit ;  but  Nature,  when  she  got 
him  locked  up  in  sleep,  took  her  revenge.  He  did 
not  hear  Stoliker  and  his  satellites  search  the  prem- 
ises, just  as  Yates  had  predicted  they  would ;  and 
when  he  finally  awoke,  he  found  to  his  astonishment 
that  it  was  nearly  dark.  But  he  was  all  the  better 
for  his  sleep,  and  he  attended  to  his  personal  ap- 
pearance with  more  than  ordinary  care. 

Old  Hiram  Bartlett  accepted  the  situation  with 
the  patient  and  grim  stolidity  of  a  man  who  takes  a 
blow  dealt  him  by  a  Providence  known  to  be  inscru- 
table. What  he  had  done  to  deserve  it,  was  beyond 
his  comprehension.  He  silently  hitched  up  his 
horses,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  drove  into 
Fort  Erie  without  any  reasonable  excuse  for  going 
there.  He  tied  his  team  at  the  usual  corner,  after 
which  he  sat  in  one  of  the  taverns  and  drank  strong 
waters  that  had  no  apparent  effect  on  him.  He 
even  went  so  far  as  to  smoke  two  native  cigars ;  and 
a  man  who  can  do  that,  can  do  anything.  To  bring 
up  a  daughter  who  would  deliberately  accept  a 
man  from  "  the  States,"  and  to  have  a  wife  who 
would  aid  and  abet  such  an  action,  giving  comfort 
and  support  to  the  enemy,  seemed  to  him  traitorous 
to  all  the  traditions  of  1812,  or  any  other  date  in 
the  history  of  the  two  countries.  At  times  wild 
ideas  of  getting  blind  full,  and  going  home  to  break 
every  breakable  thing  in  the  house,  rose  in  his 
mind ;  but  prudence  whispered  that  he  had  to  live 
all  the  rest  of  his  life  with  his  wife,  and  he  acknowl- 
edged that  this  scheme  of  vengeance  had  its  draw- 


3i4         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

backs.  Finally,  he  untied  his  patient  team,  after 
paying  his  bill,  and  drove  silently  home,  not  having 
returned,  even  by  a  nod,  any  of  the  salutations  ten- 
dered to  him  that  day.  He  was  somewhat  relieved 
to  find  no  questions  were  asked,  and  that  his  wife 
recognised  the  fact  that  he  was  passing  through  a 
crisis.  Nevertheless,  there  was  a  steely  glitter  in  her 
eye  under  which  he  uneasily  quailed,  for  it  told  him 
a  line  had  been  reached  which  it  would  not  be  well 
for  him  to  cross.  She  forgave,  but  it  must  not  go 
any  further. 

When  Yates  kissed  Kitty  good-night  at  the  gate, 
he  asked  her,  with  some  trepidation,  whether  she 
had  told  anyone  of  their  engagement. 

"  No  one  but  Margaret,"  said  Kitty. 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  "  asked  Yates,  as  if,  after 
all,  her  opinion  was  of  no  importance. 

"  She  said  she  was  sure  I  should  be  happy  and  she 
knew  you  would  make  a  good  husband." 

"  She's  rather  a  nice  girl,  is  Margaret,"  remarked 
Yates,  with  the  air  of  a  man  willing  to  concede 
good  qualities  to  a  girl  other  than  his  own,  but  in- 
dicating, after  all,  that  there  was  but  one  on  earth 
for  him. 

"  She  is  a  lovely  girl,"  cried  Kitty  enthusiastically. 
"  I  wonder,  Dick,  when  you  knew  her,  why  you 
ever  fell  in  love  with  me." 

"  The  idea !  I  haven't  a  word  to  say  against  Mar- 
garet ;  but,  compared  with  my  girl " 

And  he  finished  his  sentence  with  a  practical  il- 
lustration of  his  frame  of  mind. 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS         315 

As  he  walked  alone  down  the  road  he  reflected 
that  Margaret  had  acted  very  handsomely,  and  he 
resolved  to  drop  in  and  wish  her  good-bye.  But  as 
he  approached  the  house  his  courage  began  to  fail 
him,  and  he  thought  it  better  to  sit  on  the  fence, 
near  the  place  where  he  had  sat  the  night  before,  and 
think  it  over.  It  took  a  good  deal  of  thinking.  But 
as  he  sat  there  it  was  destined  that  Yates  should 
receive  some  information  which  would  simplify  mat- 
ters. Two  persons  came  slowly  out  of  the  gate  in 
the  gathering  darkness.  They  strolled  together  up 
the  road  past  him,  absorbed  in  themselves.  When 
directly  opposite  the  reporter,  Renmark  put  his  arm 
around  Margaret's  waist,  and  Yates  nearly  fell  off 
the  fence.  He  held  his  breath  until  they  were  safely 
out  of  hearing,  then  slid  down  and  crawled  along  in 
the  shadow  until  he  came  to  the  side  road,  up  which 
he  walked,  thoughtfully  pausing  every  few  moments 

to  remark:  "Well,  I'll  be "  But  speech  seemed 

to  have  failed  him ;  he  could  get  no  further. 

He  stopped  at  the  fence  and  leaned  against  it, 
gazing  for  the  last  time  at  the  tent,  glimmering  white, 
like  a  misshapen  ghost,  among  the  sombre  trees.  He 
had  no  energy  left  to  climb  over. 

"  Well,  I'm  a  chimpanzee,"  he  muttered  to  himself 
at  last.  "  The  highest  bidder  can  have  me,  with  no 
upset  price.  Dick  Yates,  I  wouldn't  have  believed 
it  of  you.  You  a  newspaper  man  ?  You  a  reporter 
from  'way  back?  You  up  to  snuff?  Yates,  I'm 
ashamed  to  be  seen  in  your  company !  Go  back  to 
New  York  and  let  the  youngest  reporter  in  from  a 


316         IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS 

country  newspaper  scoop  the  daylight  out  of  you. 
To  think  that  this  thing  has  been  going  on  right 
under  your  well-developed  nose,  and  you  never  saw 
it — worse,  never  had  the  faintest  suspicion  of  it ;  that 
it  was  thrust  at  you  twenty  times  a  day — nearly  got 
your  stupid  head  smashed  on  account  of  it ;  yet  you 
bleated  away  like  the  innocent  little  lamb  that  you 
are,  and  never  even  suspected  !  Dick,  you're  a  three- 
sheet-poster  fool  in  coloured  ink.  And  to  think  that 
both  of  them  know  all  about  the  first  proposal! 
Both  of  them  !  Well,  thank  Heaven,  Toronto  is  a 
long  way  from  New  York." 


THE  END. 


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Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


U.CS.D. 

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